


Most Ardently

by you_guys_are_losers



Series: Spideychelle Week 2k19 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), spider-man: h
Genre: Celebrity AU, F/M, Kinda, PeterMJ - Freeform, Spideychelle, celebrity dating au, fake dating au, pride and prejudice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_guys_are_losers/pseuds/you_guys_are_losers
Summary: Michelle Jones has spent her whole life building her skills and her reputation as a respected actress. It’s been a hard climb to the top, and now that she’s there, she can’t afford to lose any ground.Peter Parker has been thriving in the acting community ever since Tony Stark became his official mentor. He’s the image of perfection in the eyes of the public, but Peter wants to build a career that doesn't depend on anyone else, no matter how close he is with Tony.It’s mutually beneficial, and they’re both good actors… What could possibly go wrong?





	1. A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //PLEASE READ THE NOTE! STORY CHRONOLOGY HAS CHANGED.//

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //READ ME!//
> 
> Sometimes weird things happen when you're writing. Sometimes 'weird things' is when you start something as a one-shot and then fall in love with it and want to make it a multi-chapter. 
> 
> Basically, what happened here is I completely restructured this story, including the beginning. The one-shot was not meant for a continuation, so I paced it to end in one spurt. However, this presented difficulties when I was trying to figure out how to write a second part. What I ended up doing was starting over with what I already had and reworking it, changing chronology slightly. Even if you've already read this chapter, you should reread it because it's changed! 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and understanding. <3

“I’ve got it all completely memorized. There's no reason for me to freak out.”

MJ peers out the window of the car as she speaks into the phone. The familiar sights of Manhattan pass by at a lazy pace as her driver navigates the traffic. MJ has come here many times recently in the jumble of planning for an upcoming press tour. That doesn’t make it any less overwhelming as she takes everything in through the tinted glass. The buildings stretch up higher than she can see from the car, no matter how much she cranes her neck. The constant flow of people reminds her of river rapids as she watches them flow by.

"Other than having human emotions, you mean," Liz counters on the other side of the phone. A little smirk crawls onto MJ's lips at her friend's dry retort. "You're nervous, MJ. It's natural."

"It's not in my programming."

"I forgot to tell you, I hacked into your database when you crashed on the night of your twenty-first."

"So that's how we became friends."

MJ doesn't have to be there to hear the smile in Liz's voice. "Yep. You're enough of a lightweight that one shot knocks down your firewall. I'm just glad it was only you, me, and Zoha. That would've been hard for even me to spin." Though she would never admit it, the sound of her publicist and best-friend makes MJ feel better. It's something about her presence; it manages to be both warm and authoritative.

Liz Allan is a talent, there’s no denying that. She’s worked hard to become one of the best names in the business, and she's achieved it at a young age. But MJ knows better than anyone that being a young woman in film is an uphill battle. The amount of stress Liz is under at any given moment is paralyzing, but she's so good at navigating it that MJ sees her counsel as more valuable than her PR work.

"Well, you're the only one who's managed that, so don't let it get out," MJ instructs. She hears a soft laugh across the speaker. However, there is a slightly weary edge to it.

MJ's eyes narrow, focusing on the power lines on either side of the street. "Enough about my glitches. How are you?"

It is quiet on the other end of the line, and MJ does not bother to fill it. Liz sighs in surrender, and MJ knows that she is lowering her own protective programming.

“I’m a bit flustered right now.” Her voice trails off. MJ can tell Liz doesn't want to discuss it.

“You have a right to be,” MJ replies with the hint of a grin on her lips. “Certain species of animals die when exposed to a quarter of the stress you’re under.”

Over the background noises of clicking keys on the other end of the phone, MJ can pick up on Liz’s amused hum. “Validation is nice,” she jokes over the other end of the phone. “Even when it’s… Whatever that was.”

“If you were a coral, you would be dead.”

“Charming,” comes Liz's dry remark.

MJ grins as her eyes catch on a billboard advertising the next upcoming movie she’s in, a film about Maya Angelou. Liz has just finished with the film's press tour, which is one of the several reasons MJ’s publicist is so stressed. It was enough planning to fill up all the extra time in MJ’s schedule, so she can’t even imagine how much Liz has done.

“I’m ordering dinner for at my place tonight,” MJ decides. “We can work together, and it’ll either be a celebration or consolation meal.

“Sounds good to me,” Liz answers with a more cheerful note in her voice.

“You’ve got what they're looking for. If they don’t see it, then it’s their problem.”

“I know,” MJ says simply as her eyes glaze over. Her tone hints towards something more, and she knows that Liz picks up on it because she waits for MJ to continue. MJ takes a deep breath, pursing her lips.

“I thinking about how important this could be,” she admits, blinking once, then twice. “I’ve loved Austen for a long time. She made incredible strides for women in the world of literature, and I-"

"MJ."

Liz knows MJ better than that, and MJ sighs as her manager stops her method of deflection. MJ hesitates, choosing her words.

"This is about so much more than that. To a lot of people, this story is the epitome of romance. Do you know how groundbreaking it would be for them to see a black girl telling it?”

Liz lets out a sigh on the other end of the phone, and MJ hears a note of wistfulness in it. “I know,” MJ’s manager breathes, and MJ’s nerves crescendo in response to that simple admission.

“I know. It would change the game. But I need you to know it’s not your job to single-handedly change decades of systemic racism."

“I-”

“MJ.” Liz’s voice is firm as she continues. “I’m not saying you don’t keep fighting. But you won't win if you are fighting yourself at the same time.

The words are heavy, and MJ feels their weight as silence stretches between them. “Got it?”

“Copy,” MJ responds. She takes a deep breath as the car pulls up to the studio. MJ straightens up for a moment, closing her eyes and opening them. “Alright… I’m here. I’ll tell you how it went after."

“Break a leg,” Liz instructs. “Maybe two."

“Do they have to be mine? 'Cuz legs are legs, I could always pull a Tanya Harding-”

"MJ?"

"Yes?"

"If you break your legs before this tour, I will end your life," Liz says sweetly. The line clicks.

As soon as the phone is back in her lap, a horde of wasps swarms in her stomach. She wants this... She wants Elizabeth Bennet. MJ wants to be the one to show a new generation of young girls it's alright to be clever. To say no and to mean it. To speak boldly and look the way MJ does at the same time.

Liz is right. As MJ steps out of the car and thanks the driver, she is not running over what she knows in her mind. Instead, she forces all the thoughts from her mind as she strides towards the elevator.

MJ closes her eyes and singles in on a tangle of feelings. 

Slipping away from a crowded gathering and letting herself fill an empty room down the hall, pressing against the edges in the silence. Slipping out into the dark of the night and counting the stars. Laughing with the breeze and naming the trees as she walks past them. 

MJ reaches for Elizabeth, and she feels a breath of relief when she finds her. 

As the elevator doors open, MJ feels the strange urge to laugh rising in her chest. She manages to keep her face composed as she strides towards the studio, but the corner of her lips quirks up. A quiet sort of confidence begins to spread through her at the thought of what is to come.

She is going to step onscreen and let go, and it will be up to them to sift through what she leaves behind.

It takes either a few moments or hours, after MJ has entered the studio, for the man behind the desk to get the last bit of information he needs. Once she has answered a few questions, he lightly taps the earpiece he is wearing and gestures for her to follow. MJ does so, the neat flats she is wearing quiet on the slick floor as she follows him.

The next step of the journey is down a hall and through a few doorways. Then, MJ is there.

She recognizes the setup for the screen test: a green screen, a few cameras, and the place where she will stand and deliver the lines. She has already done a few tests with various performers for this casting.

But if this is the last one, she knows it will be with someone meant for Darcy. MJ has tested with potential Janes and Wickhams and even Carolines already, but not with any Darcy. Her brain has kept itself busy over the past few weeks trying to figure out why. She has narrowed it down to two options: either she is not seriously being considered for Lizzie, or they have already settled on their Darcy.

As soon as MJ's eyes find him, she knows it's the latter.

Her confidence is not shaken, but MJ's eyes widen in surprise for a moment. She knows that face, though no introductions took place. MJ knows this man because of her careful observation of his career, ever since they both attended NYU. MJ knows his talent, his passion, and of course his mentor. Any protegé of Tony Stark, Hollywood's biggest name, is bound to meet a certain level of stardom. Peter Parker most certainly has.

MJ releases a breath she didn't know she was holding as she steps into the frame with him. For a moment, she adjusts her posture and observes his appearance before her. The brown curls that are usually slicked back in interviews are free and a bit disheveled today. Earnest brown eyes peer at her, sizing her up in the same professional manner with a warm gleam in their depths.

He's a bit shorter than she is, and he is dressed in the same style as MJ. Both are wearing clothing a bit nicer than casual. He wears a white button-up with sleeves rolled up to his elbow, as well as dark pants and clean dress shoes. She is wearing a button-up as well, though hers is a pale cream with a vest over it, and her hair is loose.

After a moment, the man beside her takes a breath and offers her a genuine grin. "I... It's nice to meet you," he offers, sticking out a hand to shake. "My name is Peter, Peter Parker."

Michelle finds the urge to laugh returning for a different reason. It's almost... Endearing, that he would think to introduce himself. Of course she knows who he is; he's one of the biggest heart-throbs in film at the moment. She's met so many actors who assume she knows them, barely seeing her until after the test. They only see her as worthy of respect after she has given everything to her performance, and even then they see her as an asset. But his introduction speaks to humility MJ rarely sees in other actors.

"Michelle Jones," she replies, taking his hand to shake. It is square and warm in her own slender, cool fingers, and there is sturdiness to the shake MJ decides she likes.

"Of course. When I-" Before they can get far past introductions, there is gesturing from behind the camera and both fall silent.

The transformation is immediate. The earnest, personable man who stood beside MJ a moment ago changes completely. His posture is different; the musculature of his face shifts. His eyes, when she turns to look into them, swim with emotions written into the scene both have memorized. Some feelings within his gaze are even more nuanced.

Something sparks in MJ's chest, an excited thrill that has her blood rushing and her pulse racing. Oh... He's good.

Time to match him, to let their minds tangle and their words chase each other like specters. Time to act.

"Mr. Darcy."

The shocked gasp leaves involuntarily as she plays with stepping back. The muscles in her body hover over the decision for a moment before deciding against it. MJ straightens, blinking as her lips struggle with what to say.

"I can go no longer without thanking you for your kindness to my sister."

Across from her, Peter catches his breath. It is barely audible, but it is enough for MJ to notice. His lips part as he watches her speak.

"Ever since I have known of it, I... Have been anxious to offer you thanks. On behalf of my family." MJ allows a loose curl to slip from behind her ear, not bothering to tuck it away.

Her eyes will not leave him. She can tell by the way his gaze seems to drink in her own that his own eyes are not in danger of wavering.

The silence that stretches between them is not interrupted for a moment. When MJ continues, he hangs on each syllable.

"I know what mortification it must have cost you."

He takes a breath as though to speak, but she will not be silenced in her thanks. "Let me say this." The gratitude is sincere, of course, but there is something MJ is not saying still... Something Elizabeth is not saying.

When Peter speaks, it is in an accent so flawless and technical that MJ has to stop herself from reveling in it.

"Your family," he breathes, "owes me nothing. I thought only of you."

For a moment, he seems to face the same struggle she did only moments ago. However, he elects to take a step. MJ's breath catches in her own throat.

But this happens every time. It is a part of the struggle of acting. Making the decision to release control never gets any easier. But something deep and quiet whispers it will be worth it.

In response to her reaction, a conflicted expression crosses Peter's countenance. Frustrated confusion brims in his eyes, and it is so raw MJ can feel it as he struggles for words.

"You are too generous to trifle with me." The compliment he settles upon causes MJ to release the breath sharply. He continues in spite of it. "If your feelings are what they were last April, tell me so."

MJ's lips part as she struggles for breath. Part of it is Peter, part of it is the acting, and part of it is adrenaline surging through her as she remains frozen.

"My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever."

He closes the distance between them, and she feels the spark that can only come from their passion for this work colliding. Neither moves; neither looks away.

Her brown eyes get lost in his, and her loose curl drifts softly as he settles closer than they have ever stood.

His voice holds a slight, deep rasp that was not there before as his eyes roam her face, searching for something MJ knows he will find. "But if those feelings have changed..." His stare meets hers once more.

"I would have to tell you that you have bewitched me."

A shuddering breath leaves MJ. Her lips curl up into a careful, disbelieving smile as her eyes drift shut. She makes no attempt to hide the greed with which she drinks in his whispered words.

"Body, and soul, both are yours. And I never wish to be parted from you this day forward, because I-"

Her eyes open, piercing him to the core without a moment's notice. He reacts immediately, and the breathlessness in his voice pairs with the widening of his eyes as it tears itself from him.

"I love you."

For the first time since they began, MJ draws a deep breath. Her chest rises, and as it falls she closes her eyes once more to steel herself. They open again as she gathers herself up, and his gaze has not left her for an instant.

The ghost of a smile accompanies her soft hum. "Well, then."

Peter is an incredible actor. She can pinpoint the exact moment the hope enters his eyes, and it nearly freezes her once more.

Nearly.

She closes the distance between them. Her hands find his own, and his fingers lace with hers as if they have longed for this contact for months. Their tangled fingers press against his chest, and her eyes lift to his own.

Quiet joy, precise and technical beyond measure, glows from every line of his face. Admiration fills her, and it is admiration for Darcy and Peter both as their eyes travel each others' faces. It is reading, in a way... Drinking in the best part of a novel that is familiar to the reader, again and again and again.

Once each has a chance to drink in the other, MJ presses her forehead to his own. His eyes drift shut as he soaks in the contact, and with a soft laugh, hers do the same. Just for a moment, MJ breathes in Peter Parker and loses herself to his rhythm. She trusts him.

Her mind betrays her concentration. Has MJ ever trusted a scene partner this easily?

The moment envelops her, and then MJ's lips capture his own in a kiss.

He returns it immediately. They are not ordered to stop, and so both carefully explore one another's lips in a quiet, insistent kiss. Peter doesn't push her or ask for more. They both know this is for a scene, and so there is no testing of boundaries.

That does not mean Peter is not ardent as his lips speak against hers. One hand comes to cup her cheek, the other to tangle in her hair. MJ's own arms loop around his neck to bring him closer. His lips are soft, and his gentle caution erases any doubts MJ sometimes feels when confronted with an onscreen kiss.

They both feel the ending when it comes. Once they have pulled away, it is natural to resume the posture they had maintained before, foreheads touching. It is only once she hears the words from behind the camera that MJ's eyes flutter open.

When they do, Peter's eyes lock on her own with something shocked and earnest within them. That, coupled with his reddened lips, causes MJ to look away.

The business which follows is something MJ is more than familiar with. However, she is not as focused as she should be. MJ has learned a lot about Peter through acting with him, but this is perhaps the most interesting discovery.

Peter Parker is, without a doubt, an incredible kisser.

No. Nevermind that, MJ reminds herself as she leaves the building. Nevermind that she just experienced the most immediate click she has ever had with a fellow actor. That is a thought for a later date. Right now, there are more important things to think about.

Namely, the Thai food that has Liz's and MJ's names written on it.

* * *

"I got the call.”

Liz is silent on the other end of the line, holding her breath. "Okay. Okay."

"Yeah."

"Em, it's fine. There are a bunch of other jobs and a bunch of smarter directing teams. You've got a great body of work, and you-"

"I got the call a week ago."

"What?"

The confusion in Liz's voice causes MJ to grin, though her friend can't see it from where she stands with a screen to her ear in her living room.

"I wasn't allowed to tell you until today. Well, fifteen minutes from now, actually, but I figured my FBI agent wouldn't rat out our conversation over just fifteen-"

"MJ."

A laugh leaves her lips, one that is floating and filled with disbelief. "I got it."

"You got it?"

"Yeah!"

MJ can hear clattering on the other end of the phone as Liz leaps to her feet. "Oh, my God!”

"You know, you don't have to use my formal title.”

"I'm coming over. Now."

"What?"

"We're going to watch it hit the internet together!" Liz insists, and MJ hears the door to her apartment slam shut as the noise on the other end of the receiver echoes in a stairwell. "Please tell me you have-"

"Lemon ice for me and strawberry ice cream for you."

"O goddess divine, how you know me. Be there in ten."

"You live twenty minutes away."

"I meant what I said."

There is a click on the other end of the phone before the blissful sigh leaves MJ's lips. She begins to walk to the kitchen. It's ridiculous, but she knows she is beaming. She has repressed it all week-- why stop now?

It took a much shorter amount of time for them to contact her agent than it usually does. When MJ got the call a week ago, there was no one to tell the news to; she wasn't allowed. When the official announcement comes out in fifteen minutes everyone will know why she has been floating all week.

Waiting for Liz bores MJ faster than it should. MJ plops on the sofa a few minutes in, and her eyes find her phone. Instagram opens and MJ begins to scroll, pausing to like a few stray posts. Her eyes flicker to the clock on her phone. Liz is officially late-- it’s been another ten minutes, and it’s time.

Excitement surges through MJ, and she moves to her coffee table. Her agent sent a ribbon-wrapped copy of Pride and Prejudice on behalf of the director. The beautiful copy sits prettily on the table, no matter how she longs to open it. 

MJ snaps a picture of the novel on the table. When she posts it to her story, it is with the words, “Let’s start." written in white.

The buzzing begins almost immediately, and MJ mutes her phone.

A thought begins to itch at the back of her mind, but MJ shoves it to the side. After another five minutes of waiting for Liz and ignoring her phone, she is unable to resist. She shouldn't open Twitter-- that would be cheating. But maybe...

It doesn’t take long to find his profile. MJ barely types in the first two letters of his name before the profile shows up in the search results. There is a pink and orange halo surrounding the headshot of her co-star, and she pauses a moment before selecting it.

Immediately, the face of Peter Parker leaps onto her screen. MJ blinks as she realizes he is walking outside, his face awash with bright light. His face lurches in a repeated motion that follows the pattern of footsteps, and the angle of the camera is constantly shifting. MJ can’t keep a small smirk from her face.

He’s atrocious with a camera for a film actor, but somehow it’s a bit endearing.

“Hi, everybody! It’s me, Peter Parker, and, uh, well… I have some news for you!”

The introduction reminds MJ of the one he gave her, so earnest. His voice is as boyish and excitable as his face, and the image of an overeager puppy on a walk is called to mind as he walks through some park contained within her phone screen.

“So, I am so excited to announce the next project I’m going to be working on. Drumroll…” Peter takes a cheesy pause and a deep breath, and a little huff of amusement leaves MJ despite herself.

He's so... Him. MJ doesn't know anyone else in the industry who would be such a major dork on their social media, but she's starting to understand why he's amassed this following. For all his playful awkwardness, it feels authentic.

“I am going to be working on Pride and Prejudice," Peter informs the camera with a growing grin, "and I am going to be the Darcy to the incredible Michelle Jones’s Elizabeth !”

MJ catches her breath, though she isn't sure why. It's the first time she's heard her name attached to the project publicly, and well... The feeling is amazing.

It's also the first time she's heard him say her name, but that's completely unrelated.

“I’m so excited to get going on this film, and I already know you are gonna love this. I am honored to be working with such open-minded, powerful people, and the story we tell will be a beautiful one.”

The sound of her door unlocking draws MJ from her phone, and her head shoots up. She suddenly feels caught in the act, even though she wasn't doing anything. MJ clears her throat and stands as she tries to shake off the feeling someone walked in on her in the middle of an unsavory internet search.

“Damn, I’m sorry," Liz groans, tossing her coat on a stool by the island in MJ's kitchen. "The traffic was awful. Did I miss it?"

“Only a little,” MJ replies, walking to her kitchen cabinets to grab two spoons, “but don’t worry. I promise the internet will be exploding long enough for us to get some good screenshots." Liz grins at MJ from across the island, and MJ has to suppress her own smile. "Ice cream's in the freezer.

By the time MJ has brought the spoons to her coffee table and grabbed them two blankets, Liz manages to find the ice cream and lemon ice. They settle into their normal positions on the couch the way they always do. MJ reaches for her tub of lemon ice while passing Liz a spoon. Liz snatches the utensil, pretending to consider whether to give the container to MJ.

“There’s no way you’re winning this time,” she declares as she gives up her frozen hostage. MJ immediately opens the top, scooping out the hardened layer of icy, frozen goodness on the top.

"Keep telling yourself that, Allan," MJ replies before she spoons the lemony frost onto her tongue. She lets it melt there as she pulls up Twitter on her phone. MJ is ready to devote herself to the task she and Liz have mastered: finding the most ridiculous Twitter handles in the online buzz about a new project.

Liz clicks her tongue as she begins searching as well. She's good; she only needs one hand to scroll and screenshot while the other brings the pink ice cream to her lips. MJ is more focused, eyes sharp as they search through the tweets. There are a lot of fun reactions. MJ likes several featuring her favorite GIFs as she searches for usernames like 'brony6969,' which is currently her frontrunner. Even more of the posts picture either her story, screenshotted, or still shots from Peter's Instagram Story. Some of them show his face paused in intentionally strange expressions, and MJ likes these too.

A few tweets cause her to pause in her scrolling. The slurs aren't anything she's unused to. They follow most of her projects in the beginning (and often throughout), and there's nothing she can do. As long as there is hatred and prejudice, there will be people begging for her to fail.

Well, she does love disappointing a few racists.

Peter Parker's voice playing next to her pulls MJ from her thoughts. MJ starts before realizing Liz is watching the Instagram story. She glances at her best friend with a raised brow. Liz sticks her tongue out at MJ from behind her phone before returning to the video, eyes scanning it. For a moment, MJ thinks she sees Liz's publicist look slide onto her face. MJ decides she is mistaken as her friend looks up at her with a playful smile.

“Aw, he’s a sweetheart,” she comments, and MJ can tell Liz means it. MJ is about to nod in agreement, but Liz's next question catches her off-guard.

“Any good chemistry?”

MJ blinks, but luckily years of sarcasm have equipped her with an auto-comeback feature. “Nah, we didn’t click. It’ll be fine, though, it’s not like anyone will be paying that much attention to our relationship.”

Liz lets out a noncommittal hum, turning back to her phone. MJ watches her start the video again, this time muted as she studies his face. “Good read?”

“Yeah.” MJ wants to leave it at that, but then Liz's keen eyes appear over the phone again. MJ realizes she needs to say more before Liz will let up on this particular topic. She isn't sure why she is so secretive about this, but that's a thought for later. “We read the second proposal.”

“You’re awfully quiet," Liz observes, leaning forward with her phone forgotten on her knee. "Was it that bad?”

“No! Um, no.” AutoComeback.exe is not working, and MJ curses it internally as she manages to regain her composure. Liz is getting a smug, sly grin that only increases MJ's frustration. “It was good.”

“Was it, now?” Liz arches a single eyebrow as she studies MJ like a lab creature in a terrarium.

“It was good onscreen chemistry, I mean,” MJ corrects herself, pleased she finally has managed to collect herself. “He’s good at his job, I’m good at mine”

“And did your job happen to be making out on camera?”

MJ sighs, shaking her head as she returns to her phone. If Liz is going to try to get her worked up, she can at least feign nonchalance. "You’re worse than the tabloids will be.”

The response she is expecting doesn't come. When MJ looks up over her phone, she finds Liz contemplating her. A surge of panicked, defensive confusion shoots through MJ. She narrows her eyes at her publicist. “What?”

“Nothing.” Very, very clearly not 'nothing.' Liz returns to her phone, but before MJ can get anything else out of her, Liz has moved on.

“Ooh, I’ve got ‘tit’ in binary over here.”

MJ swears and returns to her phone as Liz takes a screenshot. She will not lose this one; somehow, she knows owing Liz a favor at the moment would be disastrous.

* * *

“You want me to what?”

The words leave MJ’s lips before she can stop them as she stares at her laptop screen in disbelief.

From her current home in MJ's screen, Liz does not seem surprised by the outburst. In fact, her best friend and publicist is cool as she responds.

"It’s not just me, MJ.” Liz pushes up her glasses as she continues, arching a brow. “I’ve had several phone calls with Mr. Hogan, Peter’s manager, to discuss it. We both agree it would be mutually beneficial.”

MJ lets out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through her hair, which is damp from a shower. She turns back to the screen. “I’m sorry, Liz. you know I would do anything in the world for you, but this-”

“--would happen to fall under our agreement of an owed favor,” Liz finishes for her, offering MJ an innocent smile. “Unless, of course, you found something to top 'Binary Boob?'”

MJ purses her lips as Liz mentions the lost competition. She knows Liz won't force her into this, even if it would compromise the sanctity of their pre-production tradition. Still, that would require MJ to have a legitimate reason. She's going to have to do some serious thinking to come up with a justification.

“How could he benefit from being in a relationship with me?” MJ presses. “He’s got any role he wants under his belt.”

“Not a relationship,” Liz corrects, “at least, not a real one. It’s pretending for the press." MJ lets out a breath, but Liz continues on.

"You’re both actors, and it’s been done before. Nothing completely insane. He’s got charm, but he could use a bit of press that makes him seem... Independent."

That is something MJ can't fight. It's smart, she realizes begrudgingly. Almost all of Peter's press has come from his mentor, Tony Stark... It would be good for him to be in the news for a reason other than that. MJ can understand the need for him to flesh himself out.

"And we both know it would bring good press to the movie," Liz adds, a prospect which causes MJ to bite her lip. "Plus, it might get you some attention from demographics you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.”

“You mean his fangirls,” MJ remarks dryly. She lets out a breath, resting her head back against the sofa. “This sounds an awful lot like a soap opera.”

“Great, maybe after this you’ll star in one of those,” Liz replies without missing a beat. The soft huff of laughter that leaves MJ is not lost on her publicist, whose gaze softens.

“Look, hon. It’s just a few behind-the-scenes photos of you two looking cozy, a couple of red carpet walks together, maybe some interviews. You’re actors; it won’t be too difficult, and it won’t go behind closed doors. We’ll walk you through every step.”

“Because there’s nothing hotter than being wingmanned by a set of agents,” MJ teases. Liz seems to take her attempt at humor as a sign MJ won’t take too much work. It does take a bit of convincing, but Liz has her, and MJ knows her best friend knows it.

Liz understands that despite her protests, there isn’t anything MJ wouldn’t do for her career. Besides, MJ knows how many young girls see Peter Parker as someone unattainable, especially the ones that look like her. So why not show them that, even for a short time, it’s possible to be with someone, be an individual, and have the life of your dreams?

Not that Peter Parker is included in MJ’s dreams. That would be ridiculous.


	2. Not Knowing How

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //SIGNIFICANT PLOT CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE. If you are following this story and have already ready chapter one by 14/4/2020, please return to Chapter One. An explanation is there. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and enjoy! <3

"-and you have everything you need, right?" 

"Huh?" 

Peter glances up at Happy from his folded hands. His manager raises an eyebrow at him from across the car. "Right," Peter recovers. "Um, yeah, I'm good. I've got everything." 

"C'mon kid." Happy sighs, but he does not look too bothered. Instead, his eyes search Peter's face. "Do you at least know the plan?" 

"Definitely. Yes." This Peter can say with confidence. He has gone over the steps in his head so many times he thinks the rest of the day might be chiseled into his forehead.

"Um, first, go and rock the table read." 

Happy leans back in the seat, but his eyes don't leave Peter. "Check." 

"Then there's going to be a car out front when we're done."

"So..." 

"So I let her know it's there-- she knows about all this, right?" 

Happy huffs softly, tipping his head back a bit as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter knows his headache at the moment comes from to his effort to switch to decaf. 

"' Course she does, kid," he sighs, sitting up again after a moment of resting his head back. "It was her publicist who came up with it." 

"Right," Peter hums, more as a reminder to himself than anything. "So, then we get into the car, and it takes us to a restaurant."

"Exactly." Happy is mollified now. As his manager signals to the driver to take a left, Peter's eyes drift out the window. 

"And then we go in, and we...Talk?" 

"Don't you actors do that anyway?" Happy glances Peter's way before he looks back to the driver. "Cast bonding and stuff?" 

"Generally, we do it without cameras everywhere." Peter offers Happy a lopsided grin. 

For the first time this morning, Happy loosens up. He rolls his eyes as he shakes his head, gesturing to Peter's phone. "You kids have cameras going all the time anyway with those." 

"Boomer." 

Happy snorts and lets out an exhale that forms a more relaxed smile on his lips.

"Listen," he instructs, "it wouldn't be a bad idea to use this time to talk it out. Make sure you're both on the same page, all that."

Peter nods and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't know why the idea is lingering at the threshold of his mind. 

Happy continues, focusing on logistics. "If you have any questions, you can contact me. Stark would bite my head off if I ignored any of your texts." 

"Yeah." He lets out a breath and nods again, straightening up. He can tell they're almost there and it's time to focus. Still, a little tension remains in his shoulders. 

Happy doesn't miss it. "Don't worry too much about it." He claps Peter on the knee. "The only part that matters is in front of the paps and the cameras, and both of you can turn it on when you need to. The rest doesn't have to be a big deal." 

Peter knows he agrees with everything that Happy is saying. Why, then, is there still something whispering in the back of his mind? 

As the car jerks to a stop in the traffic and Happy starts cursing, Peter realizes what it is. He's always been completely transparent with the audiences he performs for. He makes sure they know he's only playing a part, telling a story. 

This story is going to be about him, and it'll always be a footnote in their thoughts about him. 

Happy settles back into the seat once he's finished shouting out the window at the car in front of them. Once he's had a moment to regain his composure he pulls out his phone, scrolling through a few email notifications that pop up. Peter recognizes Tony's name on several. 

"Damn it," Happy mutters, opening several as he shakes his head. "Oh, come-- You better be good with this girl, Parker. Because I can't handle two PR messes at once."

Peter grins slightly at the irritation in Happy's voice. Tony probably cursed out another paparazzo. That's partly Pepper's fault, really. She's the one who informed Tony they can't use any video footage containing explicit language, and Tony has been taking it as a challenge whenever a photographer gets too close to his ten-year-old daughter. 

Happy shakes his head, thoroughly bemused. "He- What the hell does that even mean?" Happy groans and exits the app, beginning to furiously type a text. "I can't handle this. Just smile and nod, even if she's annoying the crap out of you." 

"I don't think that'll be a problem." 

Peter isn't sure why he says it, but he realizes he shouldn't have when Happy looks up from his phone. His manager stares at him from across the car. "Oh, really?" 

"I just..." Peter somehow can't think clearly enough to explain. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Happy raises his hands as if to say, 'nothing.' What he actually says is, "Just be careful." 

"I-- What?" 

"Don't act too well." 

Peter groans as he rests his head in his hand. "Happy, c'mon!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Happy responds, grinning now. "Alright, don't be late." 

"Won't be." That's all that needs to be said. Peter is out and ready in an instant. Before leaving, he pokes his head back in the car. "See you later?" 

Happy starts up from where he was reclining his head, eyes snapping open. Peter is quite glad looks can't kill. "If I'm unlucky." 

He offers Happy a mock salute as a goodbye. With that, Peter enters the building with a nod to the doorman. "Good morning."

There really isn't anything like the excitement of a new project. 

Peter ascends to the correct floor, and when he exits the elevator he can hear the sound of voices at the end of a hallway. For a moment, he breathes, closing his eyes. Then, once he has absorbed the moment before it all begins, he strides down the hallway and steps through the doorway. 

Instantly, Peter finds himself in the middle of the buzz that wakes him up. 

The noise dies down for a second as Peter steps into the room. He can feel the eyes, both from many of the actors, some of the execs, and others. Peter straightens, glancing at a writer seated nearby with dark eyes and a pale blue hijab.

"Morning," he greets her, and when she looks up at him her eyes flash with surprise. She recovers and answers his greeting with a wave and a small smile. Slowly, the buzz begins to build again. This offers Peter a moment to take in the room. 

A large, square arrangement of tables dominates the room. One side is already completely occupied, and Peter suspects it has been for some time. He recognizes the director and a few of the producers, as well as some executives who are the 'real' audience in all this. The director is a woman with rich, dark skin, braids in her hair, and a gleam of passion in her eyes. She is currently gesturing to an open binder in front of her and speaking to another woman whose sharp gaze is dissecting the object of her focus. 

It's not time to start yet, though. The cast is arriving at the moment and finding their seats, which are labeled for them with cards. Peter's eyes scan the table for his, but he is distracted from the search by the sound of an approaching voice.

"Well, I'll be."

Peter looks up, and a man with dark hair, strong bone structure, and friendly eyes strides into view. A broad grin stretches across his lips as he extends a hand to shake, which Peter takes. "Congratulations!" The words come with a firm shake. Peter nods as he returns it.

"Oh, thanks!" As they release the shake, Peter connects the face with the name. He knows this man, though he looks different in person than he did in the picture accompanied the announcement. If Peter is right, this is the actor who will be playing Bingley. 

"You, too! You must be Brad, Brad Davis?" 

Brad nods with a sheepish grin. "That's me," he confirms, eyes friendly as he continues. "It was great to see I'd finally get to work with you! I've heard great things." 

"Well, I hope I don't disappoint," Peter laughs, though there is still professionalism in his demeanor. 

"Eh, it's alright. If you do, I'll only have to badmouth you in interviews." 

A moment of amused silence stretches between them before Peter offers up a question. "So, are you from around here?" 

"Yeah, I am," Brad confirms. "I'm from Queens, too." 

Peter can't help the smile that lights up his face at the mention of his hometown. "Oh, sweet!" 

"So-"

The interruption is almost immediate. "I've figured you out, Peter Parker." Peter starts, and he knows who is behind him even before her blue eyes meet his own. 

"Betty." It's good to see a familiar face. He can tell by the way her eyes seize upon his face that she feels the same. Still, Betty is hardly one to waste time on formalities. "So, what've you discovered?" he presses in response to her words, wary.

"Well," she drawls, taking a few steps forward so she's a part of the conversation, "you're obviously too much of a big-shot to return a phone call." 

His eyes widen. "Oh, no-- Wait, did you call?" She's right; he saw the notification the night before, just before he collapsed in bed and forgot about it. "I'm sorry I didn't see-" 

"Nah, I've moved past it." The blonde's immediate response is accompanied by a teasing elbow to his side. 

He lets out a relieved breath and allows a grin to melt onto his lips. It's genuine. He's worked with her on enough projects that it feels familiar to have her around, and he knows they work well together. He has no other option than to do well with her; once she clicks into character, everything about Betty is calculated. "It's good to be working together again." 

"Totally," she agrees with a quick nod. "Even if you're going to slander me onscreen to..." For the first time, her eyes travel to Brad. She scans him up and down, adjusting the quilted bag on her shoulder. "You, right?"

"Yep," Brad speaks up, offering her the same charming grin he did to Peter. Betty doesn't take it immediately. First, she scans him up and down with piercing blue eyes before nodding in approval. 

Peter takes care not to let his amusement show. He is sure Betty is going to make a believable Jane Bennet onscreen; he's never known her to deliver a performance untrue to her character. Still, she looks a world away from sweetness and shyness now. Betty Brant's focus is very much her own.

"Brad Davis," greets the actor as he shakes her hand. "And you must be-" 

"Betty Brant," she finishes for him, offering a smile. She releases his hand first, glancing between the two of them before drawing herself up. 

It takes all of three seconds for Betty to make up her mind. "So, since I assume we're going to get plenty of time to get to know each other, I'm going to go start prepping," she decides. Peter isn't surprised, though Brad seems taken aback. Betty follows no one's clock but her own. 

Her fingers dart to the pocket of her dress, and Peter is not surprised when they emerge with her phone. "But first-" 

In an instant, the phone's camera is facing them as she holds it up to grab a selfie. He barely has time to prepare, and Brad definitely doesn't. The phone clicks, and all three peer at the result in her hands. 

Betty frowns thoughtfully, zooming in on the faces. Somehow, Brad looks annoyingly perfect in the shot taken at a moment's notice. 

"Peter, your mouth looks kinda weird," Betty observes, panning in on his jaw.

"Oh, sorry," Peter remarks, glancing at the screen with a slight wince. "We can retake it if you want." 

"Nah, I'll just crop you out," Betty decides, beginning to make the revision as she turns to walk away. "They can think we're feuding for a little bit. It'll spice things up." 

She finishes with the photo, and Peter is certain it is already posted somewhere. She doesn't look up from her phone, but Betty does wave as she departs. "Bye, guys." 

"See you later!" Peter offers, and there is a moment of silence as he and Brad watch her go. 

The man whistles lowly from beside Peter. "Wow." 

"Yeah, she can be a bit intense," Peter comments, grinning. 

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Brad decides as he straightens himself up a bit. "I like a little intensity onscreen." 

Peter's eyes flicker past Brad to follow Betty, and for the first time today, they catch a glimpse of Michelle Jones. He hadn't noticed her at first, but he sees her clear as day now. She is currently speaking to the woman playing Caroline Bingley... Cindy Moon, if Peter is remembering right. Either way, her piercing brown eyes are focused on the other actress, and she appears deep in conversation. 

He remembers how those eyes came alive when they were onscreen together. A surge of energy shoots through him again. 

"Um, yeah." Peter clears his throat. His gaze quickly darts back to Brad, and he nods, clearing his face. "Me, too." 

Brad smiles again, and Peter vaguely wonders if this man is ever seen without that grin. He adjusts the collar of his shirt as he straightens. "So, I'm going to grab my seat," he informs Peter. "See you when we start."

With that, Brad is walking past him towards the table, and Peter lets out a breath. Peter begins to process the interaction as he scans the table again, but this time he is not really seeing the setup before him. Brad seems relaxed, which is good since they'll be working quite a bit together. Still, Peter is going to have to get to know him a bit better. 

Peter's train of thought is interrupted as his eyes find Michelle once more. She seems to have beaten Peter to the punch. The actress is currently speaking with Davis the way Peter had been. She offers her hand to shake, and Brad says something that causes her to laugh. 

Her eyes drift past Brad, and they meet Peter's. It takes a moment for Peter to realize he had been staring. He should introduce himself again. After all, the two of them didn't have much of a chance to talk during the screen test. Peter raises a hand in a gentle wave, uncertain why the action feels so awkward.

Peter is suddenly worried Michelle will look away. She says something to Brad, and then a breath leaves him as she begins to approach. 

She looks different than she did when they first met, though still somehow very 'Michelle.' Her dark hair is caught up into a bun above her head, though a few have escaped. A gray jacket loosely covers her shoulders and her white t-shirt, which reads, "The Future is Female." Her face is free of makeup, and those dark brown eyes are more noticeable for it as they meet his. 

"Hey," Peter greets her, offering a grin as he takes the final step so they can speak. 

"' Sup?" She tips her head to the side, examining him in a way that oddly makes him feel like her gaze x-rays through him. He doesn't mind it. 

"Not much yet," he points out. Michelle hums in agreement, and his hand rises to scratch his neck. "Um, It's good to see you again." 

"You, too," she returns, nodding. "Congratulations, by the way." 

"Oh, thanks!" Peter's voice sounds a bit too cheerful in his own ears, but his smile is genuine as he nods to her. "Congrats to you, too. You definitely deserve it." 

"Thanks," Michelle replies, eyes lively with something Peter realizes is humor. "I like to think that I deserve most of the jobs they offer me." 

Peter isn't sure whether to laugh or to apologize for a moment. The strange bit is she seems to know. Michelle responds right away as if the slight shift in his facial expression was a verbal response that filled the rest in the conversation. 

"Relax." For the first time, Michelle offers him a smile. It's not exactly what Peter expected. The grin is dry, and it is more of a smirk than anything as she arches a brow. "I'm messing with you." 

"Oh." Peter's exhales practically causes him to deflate with relief.

For a moment, she pauses, watching him.

Peter lets out a soft laugh. "You had me worried there," he comments, crossing his arms. 

"Eh, no need to worry," Michelle assures him. A ghost of the smirk from before returns. "Yet." 

"Messing with me again?" Peter guesses with a laugh. 

Michelle appraises him for a moment."You hope so." 

"Cool." Something about her rhythm is surprisingly easy for him to settle into, and he appreciates it. However, they will have to wait until later to learn some more. 

Peter glances at the clock on the wall and lets out a breath. "Well, it's almost time to start. You ready?" 

"Definitely," Michelle replies, and Peter believes her. As she turns and begins to walk towards her chair, she glances to see if he'll follow. "You?" 

Peter settles into stride with her. His chair will be beside hers. "Nah, I actually just came to let everyone know I'm quitting." 

Michelle hums, contemplating his attempt to mimic her sarcasm. She signals her approval with a small smile. "Nice." 

"Thank you." 

As he settles into his chair and opens his script, Peter feels like he has passed some sort of test. He has encountered a lot of tests in the world of acting (though certainly much fewer than some actors have had to face). 

Passing this one feels the best. 

Before Peter has too much time to think about it, they are starting. Peter sets out his water bottle and silences his phone, and on his left Michelle does the same. On her right, Betty already has her colored sticky notes and highlighters ready. Peter finds himself smiling as Michelle comments on them to her. 

He's ready for this. Everyone has the same focus, the same vision. They're all working towards the same goal. 

It's time.

Peter snaps out of his thoughts as the director gives a few words, and Michelle leans forward beside him. Peter glances her way. He can tell she feels the same. The look in her eyes reminds Peter of a racehorse straining to be let out of the pen. 

When it's time, he knows she'll outstrip them all. 

"Lydia! Kitty!" 

The first line of the script is the whipping of a flag, and off they go. 

* * *

It is over much faster than Peter would like. 

The script is strong. It pays tribute to the renditions that have been done before while introducing novelty to the material, and it does this masterfully. Peter is certain that this will not escape notice in the reviews, though it will likely incite criticism as well. 

As does every film examining life from the perspective of an unapologetic woman. 

The chemistry is wonderful. Peter tested with Brad during the casting process, but the two bounce off of one another better now that the roles have been established. Betty, as expected, is positively angelic in her delivery. The Bennet siblings are believable, and though they will have to work on the timing, most of the comedic moments land. 

And then there is Michelle, who somehow manages to exceed Peter's expectations. 

He doesn't allow her to cause him to break in concentration. Still, the idea of simply sitting back to watch her is tempting. Her delivery is perfect. The ironic moments in the script are natural as breathing to her, and her comedic timing is impeccable. 

Every little thing Peter sees from the cast only excites him more, because it speaks to a passion and focus that are going to make this project something incredible. 

The end of the read-through is met with applause from all present, and then there are a few more things to go over. After the director has officially finished with her comments on delivery, the actors begin to prepare to leave. 

Peter manages to catch Betty on her way to the door. "Hey, you were great." Betty turns with bright eyes and a smile in response to Peter's words. 

"Thanks," she hums, slipping her brightly-colored bag over her shoulder. "And you're kind of killing it in this part, Peter. I know I'm not the only one who's noticed..."

Peter finds his focus drifting away from Betty and over her shoulder. Over by the table, Michelle is gathering her things. That isn't what draws Peter's attention. She is speaking to Brad, whose back currently faces Peter as the two talk. 

Betty's farewell tap to his shoulder brings Peter to the present, but the blonde is already striding away. She speaks into her phone as she drifts out the door, her voice fading down the hallway. 

Peter swallows and glances back at Michelle. The two have a car waiting, but he needs to gather his things first. Peter strides back to the table and picks up his script and water before he finally takes a breath and approaches. 

Peter steps over to the two of them, offering Brad a quick smile before turning to Michelle. "Um, hey. Are you ready?" 

She glances at Peter, nodding. "Yep," she hums, turning her attention to Brad for a moment. "Nice to meet you, uh..." 

"Brad," he finishes for her, smiling. Peter can't help but notice the way his gaze lingers on her. 

"Brad," Michelle repeats as she gives him a small wave. Michelle slings her bag over her shoulder and passes her water bottle to the other hand.

She strides to the door, and Peter follows at her side. "So," she mentions, glancing his way, "I think we're supposed to be sharing a ride." 

His eyes meet hers as he settles into rhythm with Michelle, nodding. "Yep! It's outside," Peter confirms. He glances at her bag. "Can I grab that for you?" 

"Hmm?" It takes a moment for Michelle to realize what he is speaking about. A thoughtful look passes over her face as she contemplates it. "Oh, sure. Smart." She passes the bag to Peter, and it is a bit heavier than he expected over his shoulder. He can tell from the shape of the bag that there is at least one book inside.

"Thanks." 

"No problem." Peter gives her a pleasant nod, and the words slip off his tongue. Anything for a friend." 

"Friend?" They reach the car, and she pauses for a moment. Her dark eyes make it a bit hard to think as he realizes he might be overstepping. 

"Oh, um, I'm sorry. I just-" 

"Nah, it's cool." Michelle offers him a nod as she opens the car door.

"This is moving fast. I'm going to have to study to catch up." 

Peter exhales as she situates herself, and then he enters the vehicle as well. He's going to have to learn how to quickly make the decision between apology and laughter with her.

Peter mulls over her words as the two situate themselves a comfortable distance apart. "It wouldn't be the worst idea to get to know each other," he muses as he buckles his seatbelt, "but I don't think they offer online classes in Peter Parker." 

"They do," Michelle informs him, "it's called internet stalking. From what I've heard about your fans, several of them have PhDs." She settles in a comfortable distance away. Peter sets her bag on the seat left between them. 

"Somehow not appealing to me," he decides, grinning. 

"Your call." Michelle's tone indicates she is not impressed by his aversion to stalking, and he can't help but be amused. 

The car starts, and after a few seconds, they merge into the chaotic flow of New York traffic. Michelle watches with interest as a man steps from a cab, shouting. His jacket has been tossed out behind them by the time they start moving. 

Peter speaks into the quiet. "Since we're going to be spending more time together, I guess it wouldn't be the worst idea to play twenty questions." 

Her gaze jumps to his face, and suddenly Peter feels self-conscious. "Um, or something like that. It doesn't have to be that specifically." 

"Dorky," she comments. Her deep brown eyes narrow as she grins, nodding. "I'm game." 

"Oh, cool." Peter runs a hand through his curls, turning slightly so he faces her. 

"So, who first?"

"I can," Peter decides, eyes wandering as he debates what to ask. "Um... Favorite book?" 

"Hmm." Michelle makes a face. To Peter's amusement, he realizes she's having a hard time deciding. They've definitely cast the right Elizabeth Bennet. 

"At the moment, I'm a pretty big fan of Invitation to a Beheading. "

Peter knows the macabre book. Dark, psychological... Somehow, it fits her. "Nice," he comments, and she tips her chin up as she looks at him. 

"You've read it?" she asks with a note of approval in her voice. 

"Yeah. I read it for a period piece I did set in the mid-1900s."

"I can live with that." Michelle's shoulders relax as she continues. "You?" 

"Um, I tend to like the sort of thing that has a sci-fi kind of theme," Peter reasons. " The Martian is definitely up there." 

"Good answer," Michelle decides, nodding sagely. Peter knows he is grinning now. "Coffee or tea?" 

"I drink a lot of coffee." Peter can tell, as she arches a brow, that he has given the wrong answer. A sheepish grin twists his lips as he raises his hands. "Sometimes I do black tea, though!"

"Unacceptable," Michelle replies simply, shaking her head with a wearied sigh. "I'll have to lead you to the path of enlightenment." 

"Which is?" 

"Green, herbal, and white tea. Chai, too," she informs him. "Black tea is tolerable, but it's more of a gateway drug." 

"All I know is if you leave the bag in long enough it'll give you a good caffeine buzz." 

Michelle appears scandalized.

"What?" Peter laughs, leaning forward slightly. 

"Bag?" 

Their game stretches to fill the ride. Peter isn't the best at math, but he is certain they have gone for more than twenty questions by the time the car pulls up to the restaurant. 

The restaurant was a wise choice. Peter can spot the patio from the street, which is probably why the place was selected. He can already see the paparazzi coming towards the car. Happy already told Peter they are aware of his intention to eat here. 

They do not know Michelle is here. It is a wise move (suggested by her publicist), but it also means that this is where it all begins. 

Peter glances across the car. One look assures him that this fact is not lost on her. She takes a deep breath as her eyes catch the cameras, which are already flashing. Something in her jaw tenses.

"Hey," he breathes, and her eyes dart to him in an instant. For a moment, he is taken aback by his intensity. "Are you ready?" 

She pauses, contemplating her answer. Her mouth opens as though to speak, but the words don't come. She hasn't found the right ones, and Peter doesn't want to make her search for them if she's not ready. She doesn't have any obligation to explain herself to him.

"We don't have to do this, you know," he murmurs. "Not if you don't want to." 

Michelle's eyes tear away from the cameras. They lock on him, and the surprise in them is accompanied by strange, focused curiosity. Has he taken her aback this time rather than the other way around?

Something about the thought satisfies Peter. 

“We could find another way to promote the movie. I understand if this isn’t how you want to do things."

Her eyes don't leave his. In fact, they almost seem to drill into him further. 

"I know you’re a principled person, and that’s the only reason I was even remotely okay with this. But if you decide this isn’t the way you want to get press, we can forget about it right now.” 

There is quiet. Peter at first thinks she is going to ask the driver to turn around, and he is alright with it. If she doesn't want this, he doesn't either. 

Something in her eyes sparks as Michelle sets her jaw. It reminds him of the moment before the two began their test, the one where she transformed completely. 

"Let's do it." That's all it takes. Peter steps out of the car, opening the door and standing in full view of the cameras. The shouting starts immediately. 

"Peter!" 

"Hey, can you turn over here for me?" 

"Look this way!" 

He takes a breath and offers a quick grin to the cameras. The photographers grow more insistent at this act of recognition, but Peter ignores them. He crosses to the other side of the car and opens the door for the actress. 

Michelle steps out and the shouting becomes twice as loud. 

The two walk side by side into the hibachi and grill in stride. Michelle stiffens as the flashing and shouting surround them, but Peter knows better than to comment on it. 

It isn't until they are in the outdoor part of the restaurant that Peter has the opportunity to check on her. As he pulls out her chair for her, Peter whispers the words over her shoulder. 

"Are you good?" 

Michelle's nod is quick and brisk, as is her answer. "Yeah, I'm fine." 

The actress lowers herself to her seat as Peter crosses the table, glancing up at her. The two are seated at an outdoor table, which will offer the photographers a good chance to grab some pictures. The waiter takes their orders almost immediately, and Peter watches as he leaves the patio, leaving them relatively alone. 

"So." Peter's eyes lift to Michelle as she speaks. "Do we want to talk about how this is gonna work?" 

"Sure," Peter agrees, letting out a breath. After all, this is what they've both been dancing around. It'll make it easier, he decides, to have it all squared away. 

"I know Happy told me a lot about the details," he offers. Michelle nods, taking a sip of her water. 

"Yeah, the logistics," she confirms. 

"Interviews, planned appearances, all that..." Peter lets the sentence trail off. 

"We even have a timeline, which I think is pretty sexy of us." Peter grins at her quip, shaking his head as he takes a sip of water. 

Michelle is smiling, too, though it fades into a pensive hum after a short silence. "Are we going to flesh out the characters?"

It takes Peter a moment to realize she is not talking about Darcy and Elizabeth. "Oh... Us," he murmurs, nodding in understanding. "You mean our motivations, all that?" 

"Yeah." Michelle sets her glass down, and the gleam in her eye Peter notices when she is thinking returns. 

"All the things that will sell it. The stories we tell about each other in interviews, where we had our 'first date'." Peter awkwardly scratches his neck as she speaks about the topic, uncertain what to deduce from her inflection. 

She seems to catch on, and Michelle makes a playful face, eyes lively. "The cheesy stuff." 

"Yeah definitely," Peter responds, nodding. He doesn't bother to hide his relieved smile. "Rehearsing." 

"Exactly." Michelle pauses before giving a small shrug. "I normally need to figure out the right headspace to be in for a character. It really helps when I'm performing." 

"It shows." Her eyes narrow quizzically in response, and Peter elaborates. "Your technique is great, I mean." 

She nods in thanks, letting out a breath. "Good save," she teases. 

Peter grins. "But you're right," he agrees. "Having an understanding of how it all works, boundaries... It's smart." 

"Cool," she hums. For a moment, her fingers trace the napkin on the edge of the table. Peter finds himself noticing the way she always seems to be observing, testing the things around her so nothing catches her off-guard. 

"Well," Peter says, careful to keep his tone controlled. "I think there will definitely be an aspect of, uh, physical intimacy to it. Like acting onscreen. At least, that's what Happy told me."

"No need to look so enthusiastic.” 

"N-no, I didn't-" Peter pauses, looking into her amusement-filled eyes. "Right." 

"Yep. Screwing with you." 

"Yeah," Peter says, grinning slightly. He's going to have to get used to that... Used to her. 

Somehow, he doesn't think he'll mind. 

Rather than examine that thought, Peter chooses to return to the topic of their conversation. "Um, how comfortable are you with that sort of thing?" 

Michelle muses over the question, her eyes traveling to the gate of the patio. Outside, a few of the cameras are pointed at the two of them, and she gazes at them for a moment before returning her stare to his. 

"We'll be doing some of the same stuff onscreen," she points out, "so I'm fine practicing some of it offscreen. Some touches, hand-holding. I'm alright with a few kisses, not too long so we don't make anyone uncomfortable." 

Michelle contemplates him for a moment before she continues. "I'm trying to think of it as being like onscreen romance. We're both professionals." 

"Of course," Peter immediately replies. His eyes don't leave hers as he looks for the right words. "And... Well." He offers an awkward grin. 

"If I'm ever doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, just tap my shoulder or something. I wouldn't ever want to make you feel weird about anything." 

"Thanks." She offers him a little nod, and Peter returns it. "And the same goes for you." 

Her smirk returns, and Peter knows to expect her dry sense of humor this time. "I'm kind of a wild one, so it might be good to have a safe word." 

Peter nearly snorts as the waiter approaches, causing his voice to sound constricted as he thanks him for the edamame. The man shoots him an odd look before leaving. 

"I'm kind of thinking of it the way I normally would when working on chemistry," Peter manages, looking at her across the bowl of green vegetables. 

Michelle nods her agreement as she pours a bit of soy sauce onto a small plate. "Smart approach."

Peter takes a breath before forging ahead. "I always need to establish a friendship for that sort of thing." 

Michelle glances up at Peter over the beautifully-painted bowl of legumes. Her fingers hover over a small plate of soy sauce, the pod within put on pause. For a second, Peter considers walking back the comment and trying to move past his blunder.

"Better add it to the timeline." 

Peter doesn't remember deciding to smile, but the warmth in his chest needs to go somewhere. Apparently, 'somewhere' is all across his face in the form of a stupid grin. However, he doesn't want to push things. Something about her has its own rhythm, and Peter doesn't want to screw around with her tempo. 

He clears his throat as he reaches for the edamame. "I'll make sure to let Happy know." 

For a moment, there is quiet between them as they focus on the important thing: the food. Peter is about to reach for the top green pod on the bowl, but Michelle's fingers are quicker. She swipes it from the ceramic and smirks, and Peter rolls his eyes with a smile. She is partway through opening the pocket of plant matter when she asks a question. 

"So, what made you come out for the project?" 

Peter considers it for a second, pausing. In the time it takes for him to answer, Michelle has already begun snacking on the green beans, but her eyes are as focused as ever.

"Part of it was definitely the director and the team," Peter muses. He leans back in his chair as his hand drifts to his chin. “I liked the names I was seeing, I like their styles, and I tend to enjoy films with an inclusive team.” 

There is a beat, and the thought that has been muttering at the back of his mind all day finally decides to show itself. For a moment, Peter is uncertain whether or not to vocalize it. “But, if I’m being honest…”

“What?" Michelle leans forward, finished with her edamame. She narrows her eyes, and her gaze becomes piercing and playful. "Is it because you have, like, a secret Austen addiction or something? Because I can assure you-” 

“It was because of you, actually.” 

Peter curses himself internally as the words fill the space between them. Michelle's eyes leap open, and her lips part slightly. He almost misses the little movement of her mouth. 

“Oh.”

A sudden, desperate urge to explain himself fills Peter. “When I realized you were in the running for the part, I just thought–” Nope. No. Peter pauses, taking a breath. As he recenters himself, he looks up at her, leaning forward again and running a hand through his hair. 

“I mean, when I realized what it could mean, I knew I had to be a part of it.” For a second, Peter is sure he has scared Michelle off. However, after a pause, she gives a small nod and relaxes back into her chair. It encourages him to continue. “It just seemed like something I had to do. Not that– not that it was about representation entirely.” 

Peter winces, organizing the words the way he wants in his head. "I guess I'm just saying I admire you. What you do.”

“What I do.” Her repetition of his words is more question than agreement.

"The jobs you take, and the ones you don’t," Peter explains. Now that he's hit the right point, the words are a bit easier to sort. “You don’t talk around actual issues, and you’re responsible about who you work with. You use your platform to do something. And you’ve never gotten attention or shock value by tearing someone down.” 

When he's finally finished, he offers her a sheepish grin. Peter laughs quietly, awkwardly, and leans back in his own chair again. 

“I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be a small part of it.” 

For a minute she is quiet. Michelle's eyes narrow for a moment, and they transform to surgical lasers as they examine him. Though he has the urge to tense up, Peter forces himself not to. 

Still, he can't help hoping she finds whatever she is looking for. 

When she finally does speak, Michelle raises both eyebrows at him. “That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Stupid smile is back. Peter's going to have to name the damn thing. “I know.” 

“Are you going to be this sappy when we’re dating?” she asks, picking up her water and tipping her head as the ice clinks against the glass. 

Peter shrugs. “Sorry, Michelle. I’m a hopeless romantic.” 

She makes a face, but it is playful. “Gross," she comments. Michelle tips her head to the side, considering something. "And call me MJ." 

Peter feels honored, at least until she offers further explanation. "If we’re going to be sucking face, we should probably be on more informal terms.” 

Peter groans, but it is through laughter. “I take it back. You’re definitely capable of saying stuff for shock value.” 

MJ's smirk has returned. “Get used to it," she orders. “Otherwise, we might have to break up.” 

“We haven’t even started dating.” 

“I know, it would be pretty impressive if we crashed and burned before we even got together.

“Wanna make it our goal?” 

“Alright. First person to make Happy quit his job wins.” 

Peter is sprawled out on his futon with his reheated lunch leftovers on his stomach when Happy finally swings by his place. His loft's door has barely shut before Happy plops into the easy chair Peter has come to associate with him.

A soft sigh of relief leaves Peter's agent as he sinks into it, plopping his shoe-clad feet on the ottoman. "How'd it go?" 

Peter pauses the television, which is currently running through a John Hughes marathon. He sets the mostly-empty container on the side table, stretching his back as he contemplates an answer.

"Well," Peter begins, "they definitely saw us. I'd say it was off to a good start." 

Happy grunts his approval as he lets his eyes drift shut. "Good." There is a pause as Happy fishes the discarded TV remote from the seat. 

When the battle has been won, he exhales deeply. "And how's the girl?" 

Peter's mind flashes back to the table read, watching MJ completely obliterate him from the chair next to him. He sees her letting Betty test out one of her multi-colored pens, and the image of her fishing through her bag as she searches for her wallet enters his mind. There is an emphasis on the two books and the notebook she had to remove to reach the pouch. 

Maybe he's being stupid. This is just the beginning of the project. They're going to be spending a lot of time together; there are bound to be habits that are going to annoy him or decisions he doesn't agree with. There always are. Acting involves a lot of work with other people,and it demands performers bring out their worst along with their best. 

Peter imagines MJ, when angered, will be a fearsome thing to behold. 

"She's great."


	3. A Certain Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //Thanks SO MUCH to @positivelyglowing/@spiderman-homecomeme for beta-reading this chapter for me at 2 in the morning! I love you, beautiful, and I've loved our writing and reading nights that we've done in quarantine. ;) 
> 
> Also, if you haven't read her fic, May I Stand Unshaken? 
> 
> Fix yourself. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

“Remind me again why I’m doing this with you.” Liz waits expectantly for MJ’s response as she sets out a few empty glasses. 

MJ is occupied with putting up a string of fairy lights in her living room, as Liz instructed her. According to MJ’s publicist, it will make her home look less like a home belonging to “an undercover agent who needs to keep up appearances.” MJ considers it minimalist, but when it comes to planning a get-together, Liz is the expert. 

The two spent the afternoon working on food and decoration. More accurately, Liz worked on the food while also instructing MJ on how to rearrange her furniture. MJ helped with the food enough to have crusted bits of avocado on her jeans and a streak of flour across her t-shirt, but it was mostly taking direction from Liz. 

“Because,” MJ replies, plugging in the last string of bulbs. “This ‘cast-bonding’ is going to give us material for social media that’ll draw attention to the film.” 

“Right, right.” Liz steps back to survey her work, rubbing her hands on her apron. “Also, it’s because I’m taking one of everything.” 

“I won’t stop you from enjoying the fruits of your labor,” MJ promises with the hint of a grin. She glances up at the lights hanging along her fireplace and around some of the windows. Liz was right. The creamy, soft hue relaxes the room with a warm glow, and MJ is sure it will encourage pictures. Liz has a more vested interest in the latter. 

Michelle exhales, examining her transformed living room. It flows into one with the kitchen, and the massive windows overlooking the city make everything feel open. The balcony is lit with the fairy lights as well, and MJ has a feeling they will end up sitting and talking by the fire pit. There is food and drink in the kitchen, the fireplace is lit, and all MJ’s furniture is arranged so her loft feels ready for people. 

It’s perfect. 

“Thank you.” 

Liz perks up, and her eyes are warm as she looks at MJ over a chip loaded with salsa. “You’re welcome, Jones,” she replies as she leans over the counter. “You know I’d do anything for you… And for bruschetta.” 

“Well, I am doing ‘anything for you.” MJ offers a wry smile to show she is only joking. 

“Right,” Liz drawls. When she leans over the kitchen island, her eyes gleam. “You’re martyring yourself by pretending to be involved with a jacked movie star. I’m crippled by my sympathy for you?” 

“Jacked?” 

MJ isn’t sure why she asks it, but Liz’s smile makes her wish she hadn’t. “Oh, honey,” she teases, “has no one showed you the pictures he posted over the summer from Rome?” 

MJ rolls her eyes, and Liz’s teasing softens. “You’re welcome.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” MJ slides off the apron she borrowed from Liz, crossing the apartment. “You can meet some of the cast, borrow something of mine to wear. Or you could show up halfway through and pretend to be a ghost who lives in the building.” 

“Mm, tempting.” 

“Nothing like staging a haunting to assert your dominance.” 

Liz smiles, but MJ senses something less cheerful in her eyes. “Sorry, Em. I’d love to, but… Duty calls. I have a ton of work I put off.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

Liz slips her apron off and reaches for MJ’s. “Well, now I have to pull off the haunting by myself. You know I haven’t managed to clone myself yet.” 

“Shame… For you, not for them.” Liz grins, shrugging on her jacket before she rests the aprons over her arm to bring home. “I’ll text you when I get home.” 

“You’d better, Allan.” 

MJ’s door clicks shut, and MJ is alone in her apartment for a few more hours. It takes a bit to get ready; though the small gathering is casual, MJ knows she still has to look put-together. She showers first. MJ spends a little extra time beneath the steaming water than she normally would, hoping the warmth of the water will burn away the fluttering in her stomach. 

The uneasy nerves come every time she attends an event for a film. The fact that she’s hosting this one doesn’t change anything. As MJ pulls her wet waves into a loose ponytail, she mentally prepares for the hours to come. Small talk, a room full of people who don’t quite understand how they relate to each other yet… Even though it’s small, this will take energy she doesn’t have to spend when she’s by herself. 

And even if she does her best, there’s still a chance she’ll feel alone in a room of people. 

MJ shakes the thought away as she pulls on a grey tank top and black, high-waisted pants that flare up her waist. It’s simple, but MJ knows she looks good. At least she won’t have to worry about her appearance. 

Waiting for the other actors to arrive is a horrible sort of purgatory. MJ tries to distract herself by checking the strings of light, playing with the settings of the fireplace, and adjusting the arrangement of food. After MJ nearly knocks over a fruit dish Liz made, she decides to put the nervous fidgeting to bed. She chooses to wait on her sofa instead, trying to convince herself she’s reading a half-finished novel from her coffee table. 

As it gets closer and closer to the start time, MJ is granted the relief of a few texts asking for directions. This at least assures her someone will show up. It’s a stupid worry; MJ knows it. Of course they’ll come. They’re all going to be living and working together pretty intensely for the next few months, so it’s important to get to know each other. She knows all this in her head, but the little part of her whispering she will never fit anywhere won’t let her believe it. 

_ hey, i’m gonna be a bit late, i’m sorry. _

MJ finds a little grin sliding onto her lips as the message from Peter Parker pops up on her screen. MJ sets aside her book, taking up the phone instead. 

_ It’s cool. I mean, you’ve totally, irreparably damaged our friendship, but no big deal.  _

_ shoot. i guess i’ll stay home since i’ve offended you, then.  _

MJ rolls her eyes, but the grin widens as she types. 

_ Have fun repenting. My address is 256 East 65th Street, Lexington Ave.  _

Her phone buzzes once more after MJ sets it aside, but before she can look at it there is a knock at the door. MJ almost jumps out of her skin. In the time it takes for MJ to cross the loft and answer the door, she manages to collect herself. Her composure is nearly knocked away when the open door reveals Betty Brant’s intense stare.

The woman starts speaking immediately as she begins to walk into the apartment. MJ steps aside. “

Sorry to be early. But I haven’t been here before, and I didn’t want to take a long turn. I got here fine, and I could’ve waited in the car, but there’s nothing good on the radio right now and I’m sick of my playlists.” 

The torrent of explanation comes as Betty examines the apartment. Her eyes reflect the fairy lights for a moment before they flicker down into her arms. MJ starts when she realizes Betty is holding several bottles, and it only takes one glance to reveal Betty has excellent taste. 

“Oh,” Betty comments. It is as if she has just noticed them. “I might need a hand with these.” 

MJ hums, reaching for two of the bottles. “Eh. You got them up the stairs, you can get them to the counter.” Betty laughs, and MJ’s shoulders relax. 

The knocks continue to come, and it becomes harder to pay attention to the 2005 version of _Pride and Prejudice_ as the other performers begin to line MJ’s sofa and chairs. Though Keira Knightley is hard to ignore, MJ finds it is easier than she had expected as conversation builds. Cindy Moon arrives next, and she, MJ, and Betty try a few of the different wines the blonde brought. MJ has found her new favorite Merlot by the time Brad Davis and Abe Brown show up. When Flash knocks on the door, the four have settled into a comfortable routine of trying to quote vines at the television. 

They stay by the sofa for a while with drinks and conversation, but after a while, the appeal of getting to know one another finally overpowers their interest in the movie. 

“We could go sit outside,” MJ suggests. “It’s a little windy, but we could bring blankets and light the firepit.” 

“I can get the fire going,” Brad volunteers immediately, and he shoots MJ a grin as she nods. 

“Cool,” Betty agrees. “Can we grab food on the way out?” 

“Nah, it’s for show. I’m going to throw it all out after you leave.” 

“Nice.” Abe takes MJ’s dry reply as a signal to dash for the food, and Flash and Cindy follow close behind. Betty lingers for a moment, choosing to gather some blankets with MJ

“Hey, is Peter coming?” she presses as she gathers an NYU quilt from the chest MJ uses to store her blankets. 

MJ starts at the reminder, glancing at the time on the TV. “Oh, yeah. He should be here-” 

Before she can finish, there is a frantic knocking at the door. MJ can’t help the amused smirk that crosses her lips, and Betty rolls her eyes. “He’s always late. I’ll get these outside.” Betty grabs MJ’s blanket, and MJ is careful to take Betty’s wine and her small glass as she crosses to the door. Once she gets there, she unlocks it swiftly. 

On the other side, Peter Parker straightens up. 

MJ’s eyes scan him. His hair is wet, too; he just showered, if his dark mess of curls is any evidence. He wears a pair of jeans, a grey hoodie, and a dark jacket. He looks put together, if casual, and his eyes are bright as they meet her own. 

For some reason, it takes MJ a second to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry I’m late,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh, kind of had a crazy day. Some stuff came up last second.”

“You’re good,” MJ hums. “It gave us more time to talk about how much we hate you.” 

“Peter’s here!” Abe calls from over at the island. He nearly drops his half-loaded plate of food as he waves to Peter. Peter perks up like a puppy who has heard his name called, and MJ laughs.

“About time,” Betty comments, her voice drifting in from the patio. Peter searches the loft behind MJ for a moment, searching for the source of the noise. 

“You caught us moving outside,” MJ explains, stepping aside to let him in. Peter enters immediately, and MJ finds he’s standing comfortably close.

“Um, you’ve got a lovely home,” he comments as he examines the room. His eyes linger on the food, and MJ rolls her eyes. The smile still plays with the corner of her lips as she turns. “Grab a plate and meet us on the patio.” 

“Yes!”

His boyish exclamation brings a smile to her lips. Peter is already halfway to the counter by the time MJ steps onto the patio, and she can hear him greeting Abe with enthusiasm. MJ crosses to the patio sofa Betty perches on, reaching over to pass Betty her glass of wine. Betty takes it and shifts to the side, patting the spot beside her. Cindy, who is on the other side, moves the blanket, and MJ slips underneath it. 

As she settles in beside the other actresses, MJ realizes this feels genuine. They’re not doing it to get on MJ’s good side or because they feel like they need to include her. As Betty absently rests her head on the taller girl’s shoulder, MJ decides she is more than happy to be Betty’s pillow. 

“Who was it?” Brad sets aside the lighter and takes a seat across the fireplace, glancing MJ’s way. 

“Nobody important,” MJ answers loudly, her grin not leaving yet. 

“Thanks!” Peter’s answer comes from the doorway of the patio, where he is holding a loaded plate. He steps onto the patio, offering a wave of greeting to everyone accompanied by a sheepish grin. 

“Peter!” Betty greets him without moving her head from MJ’s shoulder, raising her glass to him before taking a sip. “You’re late.” 

“Power move,” Flash says, nodding knowledgeably. MJ raises an eyebrow and makes eye contact with Cindy, who nearly rolls her eyes. “Hey, man, I’d love a picture. It’d be cool for my fans to see us together.” 

Peter blinks as he settles down in a chair on Betty’s side of the sofa, glancing at MJ. “Oh. Um, okay.” 

Flash seems bolstered by his success, and he inclines his head sagely to Peter. “It’ll be good for them to see us. Two successful guys in a female-dominated industry.” 

MJ narrows her eyes, peering at Flash. Peter glances her way before looking at Flash, tipping his head to the side. “Or, you know. You could take a picture with MJ since she’s the lead.” 

Betty lets out a huff of stifled laughter against the rim of her wine glass, and MJ can’t help her smirk as Flash blinks like a deer in headlights. Oh, well… It seems the actor, who is playing Wickham, has been well-cast. lay

“So,” Brad interjects, though his eyes are gleaming as well. “You’ve got a great view, MJ.” 

MJ allows her smirk to relax into a grin as she nods in acceptance of his comment. “Thanks. I agree, even though I’m not great with heights.” 

“Really?” Betty asks. The blonde rotates her head to peer at MJ with interest. “Didn't you do a film where you learned trapeze?” 

MJ makes a face, and Betty grins. “That was the longest twelve weeks of filming of my life.” 

“Mine was a short in college set during the winter,” Abe groans, leaning back in his chair. “It was over spring break, and it was eighty degrees outside. We were wearing jackets, snow-pants, and everything.” 

A smattering of sympathetic noises drifts across the patio, and Cindy shakes her head. “At least you were prepared for working in uncomfortable circumstances.” 

“The TV series I shot in Australia was nothing compared to that.” 

Peter grins, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure acting is just being uncomfortable in front of cameras,” he decides, taking a sip of the soda he brought from inside. 

MJ raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “Who needs comfortable?” she counters, leaning forward a fraction of an inch. Hey, if they’re going to make this romance thing believable, they’re going to have to start sowing the seeds early… But more than that, MJ wants to know the answer. 

Peter’s eyes meet hers from across the firelight, and they widen a fraction of an inch as they seize upon hers. MJ remembers of the way he looked at her during their screen test: with awe, drinking her in. Though amusement dances in his eyes, a bit of that same wonder tangles in those dark irises as well. 

“You got me.” Though Peter accompanies the words with a grin, MJ can hear the breathless note in them. 

Okay, he is a good actor. He might actually be better than her at pretending. 

Betty glances between the two of them, and MJ thinks her gaze lingers on Peter a bit longer than normal before she takes another sip of her wine. “I do,” she decides, setting the glass down at the edge of the stone fire pit. 

MJ rolls her eyes, and Cindy laughs from her side. After the noise has settled down, Betty straightens up from where her head is on MJ’s shoulder, glancing around the fire. “Ooh, I have an idea.” 

“Shoot,” Abe instructs before taking another bite of bruschetta. 

“What if we played some icebreaker games?” 

MJ contemplates Betty’s suggestion with a soft hum. Her gaze flits around the circle, observing the various reactions of the other actors. 

“Like ‘Truth or Dare?’” Brad questions. He doesn’t seem bothered by the idea. MJ thinks he might even lean forward. At his side, Flash’s eyes widen. MJ’s smirk is in danger of returning. 

“Kind of,” Betty answers. There is a gleam in her eyes that makes MJ wary for the first time tonight. “I was thinking ‘Hot-Seat.’” 

“Like from _Millionaire_?” Peter’s brow furrows in confusion. “How does that work?” 

“Yes, and thank you for volunteering to go first, Peter.” Betty’s voice is as sweet as sugar, and MJ doesn’t bother to try hiding her amusement. 

Peter groans, setting his plate aside as he shakes his head. There is a good-natured gleam in his eyes as he gazes petulantly at the actress on MJ’s right. “But I don’t know how to play.” 

MJ doesn’t either, for that matter, and she’s pretty sure Cindy and Abe are in the same boat based on their silence. Flash’s face is set in an attempt to hide his ignorance of the rules of the game. Actually, MJ reasons, he might just be hiding ignorance. No need to complicate things. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix that.” Betty turns to MJ, gesturing to the phone in her lap. “Set a timer for sixty seconds, would you?” 

“Affirmative.” MJ fiddles with the timer as Betty explains. 

“Now,” Betty begins, pausing for showmanship’s sake, “for these sixty seconds, Peter has to answer any question we ask him completely truthfully.” Her eyes flicker around the circle to make sure everyone is paying attention before she continues. “We can ask anything we want-- the more embarrassing, the better.” 

“And what do I get out of this?” Peter prompts. 

Brad, who evidently knows the game, is the one to respond with a grin. “The promise we don’t talk about your answers after tonight.” 

“If we find out you’ve lied,” Betty adds, “I’d be more than happy to tweet whatever it is you’re so ashamed of.” 

“I could rent a billboard to write it on,” MJ volunteers. Peter shoots her a playful glare, and Brad snorts. 

“And, uh, what if we get asked something we don’t want to answer?” Flash questions from his seat, eyes shifting. “I mean, I wouldn’t. Just… We _have_ to tell the truth?” 

“Don’t worry, Flash I’ll make sure your questions are particularly fun.” Betty’s reply causes him to shut his trap. 

MJ adjusts the phone on her knee, glancing up at the group. “Okay,” she hums, glancing at Betty. “Anything else?” 

“Is everyone ready?” 

There is a slight shift as everyone adjusts their posture, exchanging mischievous glances and making eye contact with Betty to affirm it. Betty nods to MJ, who glances in Peter’s direction with a grin. He raises his eyebrows in response, sitting back. 

“Alright… Go!” 

Cindy is ready immediately. “Guilty pleasure?” 

Peter starts in response to her rapid-fire question. “Um, I watch _The Clone Wars_ TV series when I’ve had a bad day.” 

Cindy studies him before sitting back, mollified. Peter exhales. 

“Blonde or brunette?” Flash offers. Betty and Cindy both vocalize their disapproval, while MJ casually flips him off as she studies the timer. Flash raises his hands defensively. “What?” 

“Brunette.” 

Peter answers faster than MJ had anticipated, and when she looks at him she finds his eyes already on her. Despite herself, her cheeks heat up. Luckily, it’s dim, so she doesn’t think anyone will notice… But why would that be a bad thing? It’ll only strengthen their story in the long run. That’s obviously why he’s doing it. MJ takes a breath to refocus. 

“Rude.” Betty’s complaint snaps MJ out of her thoughts. Betty is too caught up in glaring at Flash to notice. 

“I’m sorry!” Peter exclaims. “It’s a gut thing, okay? And you said I had to answer honestly.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Betty replies, though MJ can tell she’s not mad. Still, she’s a girl who knows how to retaliate. Betty settles back beside MJ before she settles on a question. 

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done to impress a girl?” 

Peter’s eyes widen. His sheepish grin is nowhere to be found. “Really?” 

Betty’s smile is smug. “Answer the question, Peter.” 

“Um…” 

MJ turns to Betty. “Hey, do you want me to count how many seconds he wastes stalling?” 

“No!” Peter raises a hand to interject. “I tried to do a backflip in high school because the girl I liked was a gymnast. I hit my head on the floor so hard I passed out.” 

MJ nearly snorts with laughter, and Peter shoots her a look. The grin that plays with his lips proves he isn’t mad. “Thanks.” 

“Oh my God.” 

“In my defense,” Peter points out to no one in particular, “I _can_ do a backflip. She made me nervous.” 

“Right,” Betty drawls. 

As Peter and Betty exchange a few playful jabs, MJ realizes she hasn’t asked a question yet. Before she can, though, Brad interjects. “Have you ever broken the law?” 

Peter thinks about it. “I’ve definitely trespassed on private property,” he decides. “Empty lots and stuff.” 

Cindy leans over to glance at the timer in MJ’s lap. “Ten seconds left.” 

MJ blinks rapidly before deciding on a question. “What’s something I wouldn’t guess about you?” 

Peter’s eyes lock on hers, and he tips his head to the side before he settles on an answer. “I took dance all through elementary school, and then again in college,” Peter replies.

“What kind?” she counters. 

“Ballet, mostly, but also some lyrical and hip-hop.” Peter grins, satisfied by his answer. 

“Time!” Cindy calls. The timer blares not a second later, playing “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne. MJ silences it, pointedly ignoring Betty’s amused stare. 

Peter sighs and slumps in his seat. “Jeez.” 

“You got off easy,” Cindy informs him. “Questions are only going to get harder.” 

“Ballet?” Flash crows, grinning. “Wouldn’t think you’d have it in you.” 

Though they’ve been teasing each other all evening, MJ decides Flash rubs her the wrong way. She doesn’t look up from her phone as she sets the timer, but MJ directs her comment towards Peter. 

“I’ve heard ballet takes more muscle and training than most sports.”

MJ doesn’t look his way, but Peter pauses before he answers, his words careful. Warmth edges into them. “Yeah. I was in better shape when I was dancing than I ever have been for a film. The lifts and stuff meant I had to build a lot of functional muscle.” 

“Sounds badass to me.” Though her tone is nonchalant, MJ’s eyes lock on Flash Thomspon’s like homing missiles. He tears his gaze away and drops it immediately. 

“Maybe we should move on,” Brad suggests. When MJ looks his way, she is surprised to learn he is already looking at her. There is a flicker of something undefinable in them, but for some reason, it makes her skin itch. Being the object of his focus feels strange. 

MJ looks away and clears her throat. “Who’s next?” 

MJ gains a lot of interesting information throughout the game. For instance, MJ had no idea Betty is a professionally trained pianist, or that Cindy’s parents are a respected research scientist and a skilled surgeon. However, the more interesting tidbits can be classified as blackmail material. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” Abe shakes his head in disbelief, leaning back in his chair. 

“It was a dare,” Brad defends himself, raising his hands with a grin. “I didn’t _volunteer_.”

“You streaked across a high-school football field,” MJ points out with a smirk. “I don’t think anyone cared about your motives.” 

“For the last time, they told me it was empty!” 

“And you believed them,” Cindy replies firmly. “Still on you.”

“Thanks for that,” Brad sighs, shaking his head. Still, he is good-tempered as always as the laughter dies down, and the actor leans back in his chair as he scans the circle. 

“MJ.” He grins in her direction with the same pleasant smile he always wears. “How have you gotten this far without going?” 

She glances his way before letting her eyes scan the circle. For some reason, her heart skips a beat as they skim the faces, but she just shrugs. “Hit me with it.” 

MJ hands her phone to Cindy, who sets the timer. “Good luck.” 

Betty is ready to go as soon as Cindy pushes the button. 

“What’s the most embarrassing book you’ve ever read?” 

_“Twilight_. I wanted to see if I could get through it. I did, but at what cost?” 

MJ’s attempt at dry humor is not enough to break the rhythm. Throughout the game, they have gotten good at keeping the questions coming. It’s more fun on the other end of things. 

“What is a rumor someone told about you?” Cindy asks, peering at MJ. 

That one takes a second, though MJ is careful. She doesn’t want to seem like she is wasting time. “Once, in middle school, Susan Yang spread a rumor I was drinking in school when she saw my kombucha.” 

Cindy laughs, but Flash jumps in before she can comment. “How did your last relationship end?” 

MJ turns her gaze to him, careful to keep it inscrutable. She knows this is payback for her question about the most embarrassing thing in his browser history (“how to get more followers fast”), so she’s not going to rise to it. Betty shoots Flash a warning glance, and Peter looks profoundly uncomfortable across the circle. She somehow can’t look his way. 

“He was intimidated by my costar in the project I was working on at the moment,” she answers, her voice measured and careful. “He got mad when I was working to get into better shape for the stunts, and when he saw us onscreen he threw a temper tantrum. I’m not here to cater to fragile egos, so I ended it.” 

“Was it Harrison Osborn?” questions Brad. 

MJ’s eyes dart to his across the circle, still stony. Still, she feels a slight pang of irritation. She has always been private with her relationships and her personal life… At least, before this agreement with Peter. But that’s not real. MJ isn’t good at sharing real. She’s too blunt about it, and people don’t respond well, which is why she has never confirmed the rumors. 

But this is a game, and she doesn’t want to be a bad sport. Besides, Brad couldn’t know that about her after just meeting, so it’s not _really_ his fault. “Yes.” 

A victorious gleam lights in Flash's eyes. Cindy jumps in with a vanilla question. MJ suspects it is to soothe the tension; MJ has never been one to shrink away from tension, but she also doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. “What’s the one food you would eat for the rest of your life if you had to?” 

“Espresso.” 

MJ finally dares to glance at Peter, and he is holding back a grin. “You know, espresso isn’t a food-” 

“I meant what I said.” 

“What song do you sing in the shower?” Abe questions. MJ grins in his direction, tipping her head to the side. 

“Hm. I like ‘Let Me Love You,’ by Mario,” MJ mentions. “Anything by Beyonce, too. And ‘Truth Hurts’ by Lizzo, of course.” 

“Boring,” Betty teases. Abraham shakes his head, but he doesn’t disagree. Betty fixes MJ with a mischievous stare. “Do you think you’re a good kisser?” 

MJ stiffens, and her cheeks blaze with heat. It takes everything in her not to look Peter’s way, and her heart skips a beat. No. Nope. Not thinking about that right now. Maybe this ‘staged relationship’ thing is going to be more difficult than she thought… It's causing her to be a bit more aware of him and on-edge than she would be without it.

MJ takes a breath and shoves away the thoughts away, smirking at Betty. “I haven’t received any complaints.” 

Just when MJ thinks she has managed to keep her cool, Flash jumps onto the opportunity. “Who was your best onscreen kiss, then?” 

Well, damn. 

MJ has a pretty strict honestly policy when she’s not playing a game that requires the truth. The truth helps to avoid awkward, uncomfortable situations in the future. But this truth? This truth would only create more problems than it already has (namely, the racing pulse and the heat crawling up her neck as she struggles to think). 

Because her best on-screen kiss was Peter Parker. 

The kiss was good, but that’s not why MJ is hesitating, she reminds herself. If she says it was him now to the other cast members and then they enter a fake relationship later, it’ll seem rushed. The timeline will be off, and-- and the timeline is important, MJ reminds herself. 

She can do this. It’s for both of their sakes, so it’s a well-intentioned lie… Which is what liars say to console themselves, but in this case it’s true. Besides, this is an opinion question. If she lies, they have no way of knowing. 

So she does. 

MJ’s eyes flicker imperceptibly to Peter, who leans forward. He has a slight tension in his face, but luckily everyone is too focused on MJ to look his way. MJ looks to Brad instead, and she immediately wishes she hadn’t. He is staring intently, and MJ doesn’t know what to do with that. She turns to Flash instead. 

“Aaron Morales,” she informs him. MJ is proud of how she manages to keep her voice cool. “But he’s way older and wastes most of his mental real-estate on being an asshole, so it didn't mean anything off-camera.” 

Betty huffs in amusement from beside MJ, shaking her head. 

“Ten seconds left!” Cindy warns. 

“Um, what’s a secret talent you have?” Peter asks. When MJ looks into his eyes, she sees the same reserved look that is often in her own. Somehow, she feels a little bit of disappointment… It’s probably the sips of wine she’s had. Alcohol, even a little, tends to affect her mood. 

“I sing,” MJ mentions. “I’ve done it for a few roles, and I even play a bit of guitar, though I’m not that good. I have one in my room, but I haven’t touched it in ages.” 

Peter offers a small, warm smile. It’s a bit more reserved, but it still causes her to lower her shoulders a bit. “Cool.” 

The timer goes off, but Cindy shuts it off almost immediately. Across the circle, Brad perks up. “I play, too,” he mentions. “I'm actually pretty good. I took lessons for a few years.” 

“Way to rub it in,” MJ comments, smiling wryly. 

Brad’s ever-present grin widens. “I could play something for you to sing to if you want. I’m sure it’d be fun.” 

MJ blinks, glancing at Betty. The blonde girl gives a sleepy nod on MJ’s shoulder. “You should,” she agrees. “I want to hear. I didn’t know so many of us were musicians.” 

“Okay,” MJ consents. “But I’m going to have to get up to get the guitar.” 

“Nevermind. I rescind my opinion.” 

MJ grins as Betty puts more of her wait on MJ’s shoulder. After she has successfully lowered Betty’s head to one of the patio pillows, MJ begins to edge around the fire pit. It is only once she has managed to slide around Betty’s feet that she realizes she is in danger of stepping on the blonde’s glass, which she set on the ground. MJ wobbles, and Peter’s arm shoots out to steady her.

It comes to the small of her back, brushing it lightly as his other hand reaches for her elbow. He is mostly standing, now, though he is leaning slightly down since he hasn’t straightened up yet. His touch on her back is warm through her top, and MJ takes a moment to catch her breath. Her head is a bit slower than it would be thanks to a glass of wine… Damn her slow metabolism. 

The two pause, and MJ’s eyes shoot to Peter’s. After a moment, he releases her, stepping back. “Sorry. I thought you were gonna fall, and the fire-”

“No, it’s okay.” MJ stops him, though her voice remains quiet. She quirks him a lopsided smile, ignoring the feeling of his fingers ghosting along the small of her back. “Thanks.” 

“Uh, you’re welcome.” 

There is quiet for a moment before MJ gathers herself, brushing past him to get the guitar. The fuzzy feeling stays in her head as she enters her room, and for a moment she forgets she is there to get the guitar for Brad. 

Okay, MJ decides as she finds it and removes it from the hardcover case. No more alcohol for the rest of their act. It’s practical, she reasons. It’ll keep her from slipping up; she’s a bit of a lightweight. 

And for some reason, it is a bit too easy for MJ to jumble her thoughts around Peter Parker. 

* * *

“You guys are already killing it.” 

MJ blinks blearily as Liz’s voice bubbles from the speakers of her phone. Her head is still a bit foggy, even though she’s had a full night of sleep since the night before. She needs to develop a better tolerance for alcohol.

“Huh?” MJ murmurs as she enters her kitchen, which is surprisingly clean for the morning after a small party. Peter, Brad, and Abe stayed to help her clean up while Cindy drove Betty home. It didn’t take long; they had been tidy, and MJ’s dishwasher can load a surprising amount of dishes. “You mean the posts last night? Yeah, I thought the pictures I took with Cindy and Betty looked good.” 

Betty had loved the fairy lights, so they had gotten several good pictures. MJ posted a few with Betty and Cindy and some videos of them talking and laughing over the game. None of Abe’s answers were too embarrassing, so he agreed to let MJ post part of his round of ‘Hot-Seat.’ MJ’s phone is still blowing up with excitement for the upcoming film, which is exactly what she and Liz predicted. 

“No, no,” Liz replies. MJ can hear the clattering of pots and pans in the background. Liz is almost definitely making waffles, her breakfast food of choice ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent is chocolate chip waffles. 

“I mean, yes. They were great, of course,” Liz corrects herself. “But I’m talking about the video.” 

“Video?” MJ frowns as she turns on her electric kettle, stifling a yawn. “The one with Abe?” 

“No, the one Betty Brant posted,” Liz replies. “It’s gotten plenty of attention for the movie, but I’m talking about the planned relationship. I’m glad you two communicated because you’re planting the seeds for it just like we hoped.” 

MJ pauses, then pulls her phone away from her ear. Once it’s on speakerphone, she begins to scroll through Instagram while Liz’s icon flashes at the top of her screen. “Um, yeah,” she hums. “Hey, listen, I have to brush my teeth. Call you back in a sec?” 

“Sure! I’m- Wait. Damn it! My waffles are burning!”

Liz is off the phone before MJ can even try to hang up, and she’s not complaining. It means MJ doesn’t have to pause her scrolling through Instagram stories. She finds the one she wants pretty quickly. 

The pictures MJ and Betty took with Cindy pop up as soon as MJ taps on it, and she scans the various poses and faces they are making beneath the lights. They all look good, but where’s the video? It takes much more tapping than it should to bring it up. 

The video must be from after ‘Hot-Seat.’ MJ is in the camera’s focus, sitting on the concrete beside the fire. In the chair beside her is Brad, strumming the chords to the song they both knew (“Brown-Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison). MJ is singing, and her eyes are closed. It sounds nice, she has to admit-- the warm strings and her voice, alongside the crackling of a fire. Betty managed to get MJ’s favorite part of the song, too. But what does any of this have to do with Peter? 

It’s only as the story switches to the second half of the video MJ understands. 

The camera begins to pan around the circle, leaving MJ and Brad and traveling over Flash, who is on his phone, and Abe. It’s when it reaches Peter that MJ realizes what Liz was talking about. 

Peter leans forward in his seat. His chin rests on the hand of the arm propped on his knee, and his eyes are locked in the direction of where MJ was. A gentle grin tugs at his mouth, and as the camera pans around to Cindy, MJ doesn’t miss the way it widens. 

His eyes gleam in the firelight, and they don’t waver. 

MJ shuts off her phone as the electric kettle reaches a boil beside her, shoving it into the pocket of the hoodie she wore to bed. As MJ pours a cup of chai tea, she tries to think of what she can say to Liz. _Oh, yeah, definitely. He’s good at improvising. Yeah, we’re not wasting any opportunities to make them believe us._

Anything to explain the way Peter Parker is so effortlessly good at this.


	4. More Natural

“I’m not!” 

“Yeah, you are.” MJ glances his way without suppressing her dry grin. “There should be a show like the Worst Cooks in America for phone users. You need to be on it.” 

Peter grins and skips forward to get the door, shaking his head. “I’m great with my phone! I wouldn’t have so many followers if I wasn’t,” he reasons.

MJ brushes past him into the coffee shop they’ve taken to frequenting. It’s on the way to the studio where they learn and rehearse dances for the film, and it is quieter than the surrounding shops. 

Probably because the espresso tastes like liquid rubber, but it’s an acquired taste. 

“I hate to break it to you, loser,” MJ sighs as she steps up to the bakery glass, surveying the circles of soggy pastry. “But the reason you have so many followers is the one shirtless scene from that spy flick.” 

Peter feels warmth flooding his cheeks as MJ pulls out a few dollars, inspecting the coffee menu. He knows the part MJ refers to — it’s been the clickbait image on a healthy quantity of the articles about him. He appreciates that she’s seen his work, but… The idea of Michelle Jones watching him removing his shirt with painstaking slowness to expose his abs sends his mind spinning out. 

“Um, right,” Peter stammers, clearing his throat. She glances back at him, quirking an eyebrow in amusement, and he justifies himself. “Sorry. Just taking a second to question how much of my success has to do with sex appeal instead of skill.”

“Welcome to my world.” 

Peter grins as she steps up to the counter, glancing out the window. Sure enough, he can see them: photographers, lingering at the edge of the storefront waiting for Peter and MJ to exit. They must’ve figured out the pair’s morning caffeine habit. 

Happy will be pleased. No doubt he’ll think it was calculated. It disappoints a slight part of Peter. The morning coffee isn’t a part of the publicity stunt. 

After MJ showed up to one of the first dance rehearsals and mentioned that she hadn’t found a coffee place nearby, Peter suggested they locate one together to get to know each other. Since then, the routine has developed. Peter considers it part of their warm up.

He doesn’t want the press involved in any part of that. 

“Hey.” 

A pair of dark eyes jolt Peter from his thoughts. He nearly misses the hot cup she extends to him, and it burns his hands through the sleeveless cup when he accepts it.

“Huh?” Peter blinks, and as the coffee vapors reach, his eyes widen. “Hey, you got my order!” Peter grins in MJ’s direction as she savors her earl grey, raising an eyebrow. 

It might be his head playing tricks on him, but Peter swears she takes longer than she should to swallow her sip of tea. “I’m not obsessed with you, just very observant.” 

Before Peter questions her reply, her eyes waver in the window's direction. She hums as she observes the photographers. “Oh, cool,” she comments, fiddling with the string of the tea-bag as she peers his way. “They found us. It was smart.” 

Peter glances to the side. “Hmm?” 

MJ doesn’t shrink under his gaze. As she brushes a few wisps of hair behind her ear, she looks relaxed as ever. “This whole ‘morning coffee’ thing. It was a smart idea. There was no way they weren’t going to find us.” 

Peter blinks, hesitating before he responds. This will support their stunt, but… If MJ thinks this is only for the press, is that why she came?

“Yeah, of course. I figured Happy would approve.” Peter makes himself sip the fiery liquid and regrets it. His eyes water as he coughs, and MJ smirks at him over her own drink. “Oh, God.” 

“Lightweight,” she notes as he settles into stride with her on the way out the door. 

“Okay, not normally. This place is just… Bad.” 

“So’s mine.” 

“You’re drinking tea.” 

“And?” 

The bell jingles. At least the press is still attempting to be tactful. Peter spots them lurking up the street and at the intersection. MJ sees them, too. Her eyes linger on a man with a black bag at his side. Something almost imperceptible flickers in her gaze. He’s noticed it before, in the car at the restaurant. Though she does nothing, Peter can interpret the subtle tension of her posture and movements. MJ doesn’t appreciate reporters.

“Tea’s not coffee,” he points out. If there’s one thing MJ loves talking about, it’s tea. “Yours isn’t as strong as mine.” 

MJ’s countenance softens after she searches his. “Speak for yourself. It’s bad, but at least my face doesn’t do that.” 

Peter shakes his head. “I dunno if I believe that,” he prods in an aspect of mock seriousness. 

“Try me.” MJ doesn’t smile, but she moves her drink to swap with his coffee as they halt at the crosswalk. Peter ensures the light is red before trading with her and popping off the lid of the cup to bring the rim to his lips. 

As soon as it touches his mouth, Peter wrinkles his nose.

He can’t get half a sip before he’s closing the top and shoving it back in her direction. “No, nope. No.” 

Her expression of quiet amusement is almost sufficient to counteract the awful taste in Peter’s mouth. It’s so bitter that he feels like he might crawl out of his skin, and he can already sense the slight buzz of caffeine entering his system. 

“How have you been drinking that?” 

As an answer, MJ raises Peter’s own cup to him and then takes a sip before passing it back with a deadpan expression. “It’s my superpower.” 

Peter shakes his head as he takes his coffee back. “It’s terrifying.” 

The light switches before Peter can try to distract MJ. He holds his coffee closer as they cross the street as if to set an invisible boundary. The flashing of cameras tells Peter he’ll need it. 

There’s not very many; that’s a blessing, at least. It’s a few of the more independent photographers, and they keep some distance. Still, when the cameras flash, Peter catches the way MJ’s shoulders tense. He fixes an easy grin, waving a hand in greeting. 

MJ’s response is masterful, too. To someone who doesn’t know her, she is confident as they come. MJ tucks her tea closer to her torso as she flashes a slight smile. Her posture is cool but collected, and she moves with put-togetherness that only comes from practice. 

“Peter? Peter!” 

The woman’s voice comes from behind him, and when he turns he sees a woman with her phone camera trailed on him. She doesn’t look like a fan interested in a picture… Her gaze is too sharp. Maybe a celebrity blogger, he decides. “Over here!” 

“Um, sorry,” he mentions, offering an apologetic smile in the camera's direction. “We can’t stop and talk, we’re on our way to work.” 

“No problem,” she replies, not lingering on it. She continues to follow with her phone fixed on them. “So you’re both going to work on Pride and Prejudice?” 

“Dance rehearsals,” MJ confirms from her side, nodding in greeting. 

The woman trails her camera to MJ next, a question loaded and ready to fire. “And you went out together beforehand?”

“Yeah,” MJ replies, glancing his way before offering the blogger a casual shrug. “It’s kind of like a warm-up together.” 

“And it’s given us the opportunity to get to know each other better,” Peter volunteers, looking to MJ with a smile. They can’t hurtle out of the gates too fast. Still, they also can’t rule out any suspicions. “That’s essential when you’re working with someone long-term.” 

“You were also seen together May 11, is that correct?” the woman presses, stepping off the curb to evade a street sign so she can continue to pursue them. 

MJ nods at the mention of the table read. “Yes, we were. The read was great, so we talked through it afterwards.” 

“And how do you respond to rumors that there’s more between you two?” 

It happens at that moment. The woman steps back onto the curb, edging too close to MJ. She stiffens, and one of her combat boots trips on an uneven patch of the sidewalk. Peter doesn’t have time to reflect as MJ stumbles. 

His hand shoots out to steady her, hovering at the small of her back. MJ audibly catches her breath from beside him. 

Peter lowers his hand. MJ steadies herself, stepping aside. His heart hammers, both from what just happened and the lingering sensation of her jacket beneath his fingertips. 

MJ pulled away so instinctually… What if Peter has upset her or crossed a line? 

“Oh, sorry.” The sharp apology of the blogger jerks Peter back to the present. Irritation pangs through him as he looks at her. 

“It’s fine.” MJ offers an abrupt nod, but there has been a shift in the atmosphere. As they approach the doors to the building, she straightens up, recovering her poise. It is only once she speaks that Peter even recalls the query. 

“We’re new friends, you know? I’ve never had the chance to create with Peter before, and it’s been great getting to know him.” MJ smiles in his direction, but her eyes don’t reach his before she glances back at the blogger. 

“So, no. We’re not together, we’re friends.” 

All Peter can focus on is how she danced away from his touch as her gaze finds his. 

Peter locates his voice again, fixing on a smile for the cameras. “Sorry, but we’ve got to go.” 

“Thanks,” the woman with the phone says. Peter doesn’t look back as he follows MJ into the studio. 

The doors close behind them, and Peter turns to apologize. MJ is already on the way to the elevator, so he swallows his words and follows. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as the doors slide shut. He hears her tense next to him, but when he glances at her MJ appears unaffected. 

“I didn’t mean to touch you, especially not without asking, I just- I thought you were gonna fall.” 

“You’re fine,” she replies. “You didn’t do anything. It was quick thinking.” 

That is the last thing Peter expects. He blinks, staring at the lit elevator buttons before daring to peek her direction. “Um, what?” 

“It was smart,” MJ clarifies. Her tone is rational as she sips her tea, eyes flickering to Peter. “The cameras must have caught it. Liz will make sure it circulates, so it’s cool. You’re good at this.” 

Peter thinks he is imagining the note of tension in the air, but she glances away too fast. Something in his chest sinks.

“Thanks. I guess I am.” Peter looks at his coffee as the doors slide open. He has no interest in choking down the rest of it. 

By the time he has disposed of the cup, MJ is setting down her things by one wall in the studio. She and Betty are conversing — or, more accurately, Betty is speaking in a focused stream of thought MJ punctuates with quick observations. What began at MJ’s house has grown into something simple and strong over the course of the dance rehearsals. MJ and Betty are friends now, and part of Peter feels like they always have been. 

“She’s pretty great, right?” 

His full body tenses up in response to the sound of Brad’s question. He is suddenly very glad he isn’t carrying the hot coffee. “Huh?” Peter glances to where Brad stands with his bag over his shoulder. The actor’s gaze rests on MJ the same way Peter’s did a minute ago, and Peter is oddly uncomfortable. 

“Oh. Um, yeah, she’s awesome.” Peter pauses, and Brad stops staring. He leans closer with a conspiratorial smile. 

“I’m thinking about making a move,” he reveals with a grin, glancing at MJ once more before looking back to Peter. “I think we have good chemistry, y’know? So maybe, once we get on set…” 

Brad trails off, smile broadening. He settles his eyes on Peter’s with the same bright intensity that accompanies transitioning from a shadowy house to the midday sunlight. “Oh.” He blinks, peering in MJ’s direction. His chest sinks again.

This time Peter can blame it on the charade. If MJ and Brad get together, that’ll complicate their “relationship.” Paparazzi are relentless. The more individuals associated, the bigger the chance that it becomes complicated. 

Not that he’ll try to stop it. MJ can see whoever she wants behind-the-scenes, they’re not a couple. 

But the idea of Brad Davis cherishing MJ in secret makes his gut wrench. 

The silence goes on, and Peter realizes that Brad is expecting his feedback. He inhales, retrieving his voice. “Um, yeah. No, those few weeks are definitely a good time to let it happen.” 

Brad nods, appeased, as he looks at MJ. She and Betty leave the room to change into athletic clothing for rehearsal, and Brad’s gaze follows them. “Not that I’m just doing nothing. I’m laying a foundation, you know? Talking, getting to know…” 

Peter lets Brad’s words fade as he sets his things down, nodding as if he is listening. 

He needs to get it together. This is distinct from anything he’s ever done for a film, but he can do it. It’s performing, Peter reminds himself. He will do what he’s always done: work hard, develop a convincing character, and set the boundaries needed to sell it. Sure, more mental gymnastics occur when it’s real life. But he’s always up for a fresh challenge. 

Even if that challenge has been evading his gaze ever since this morning. 

MJ and Betty enter the studio arm-in-arm, grinning about something. They’ve changed into leggings and tennis shoes, and Betty’s hair is in a blonde braid that foils MJ’s curly bun. Betty’s bright blouse strengthens contrast between them. MJ, preferring darker shades, sports a black-and-white t-shirt featuring Joan of Arc. 

Peter realizes he’s looking too late. MJ’s eyes catch his as they survey the room, and the gleam of mirth in her irises quiets. Peter offers a slightly lopsided smile. She returns it quickly before turning to Brad, who has approached the two.

He’s a moron. Peter cannot stop replaying the moment she shrank away from him in his mind as he stretches with Josh and Zach. Though he adds to their mild banter, most of Peter’s intellectual faculties are employed in cursing himself for the impulsive act that led to this. If he hadn’t reached out and initiated contact she didn’t ask for, if he’d thought before acting… 

Peter banishes the thoughts as the rest of the cast settles into the routine of practice, stretching and performing a warm-up before it’s time to rehearse. He can manage dancing. Peter has had enough dance training that the movements, once demonstrated, are coding in his head. He’s practiced alone, and he knows the tempo and synergies of the complex new style from hours of work and memorization. 

Nevermind that he screwed up this morning. Dance is something Peter knows, something he excels at. There’s a reason he’s never once stumbled after picking up a routine. 

They have been learning and rehearsing Elizabeth and Darcy’s dance for the past few days, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when Wanda Maximoff, the trainer in period dance that they’ve been consulting, notifies them they will do it in its entirety. 

A brief rush of adrenaline surges through Peter as the cast changes to their starting places. To learn a dance is one thing; it demands his unrelenting focus and repetition. Stringing the steps together is something else. This is where Peter will infuse the actions he has memorized with the personality of his character. This is where the performance begins, merging with his rhythm and timing. 

Many of the dancers in this scene are not in the rest of the film; they are pros, proficient in the style of many periods. He settles beside two of these men, including Zach. Peter grins in his direction, and Zach offers him a salute. 

Across from Peter, MJ takes her mark. Peter straightens as the others settle in place, attempting a grin. Screw tension from this morning. This is acting, and she’s as good as they come. This is a context in which both MJ and Peter know where they stand. 

MJ returns the grin, rolling her eyes as Peter waves from the position opposite her. Her expression is the first since his indiscretion that looks natural. His spirits lift. “Hey.” 

“‘Sup, loser?” She smirks at him from across the line, straightening her posture. 

Peter pretends to consider the rhetorical question. “Not much.” It is easy to settle into the flow of teasing. “About to, y’know, totally kill this dance.” 

“Dork.” A jolt of MJ’s head informs Peter that she finds his comment cheesy, but her smirk widens. “Nah, I’m gonna win this one.” 

“I don’t think dance is something you can win.”

MJ narrows her eyes playfully, increasing the competitive intensity of her stare. “Keep telling yourself that,” she drawls, “when you lose.” 

Peter’s smile widens as they maintain the stare-down. Her eyes flicker to his lopsided grin, and her smirk fades. Peter lets out a soft breath as MJ allows the rhythm of their interaction to wash away. Her gaze is guarded when it returns to his. 

Peter purses his lips slightly as his own grin trickles off his mouth. His gaze doesn’t waver, and neither does hers. MJ isn’t one to retreat. He can tell, though, that she is not sure how to handle the expectant silence between them. 

Her hand rubs the back of her neck, and then she concedes. “Yeah?”

Peter pauses, organizing his thoughts as he inhales. There is a pause before he ventures forth. 

“Are we okay?” 

It’s not a flinch, but a similar expression darts across MJ’s face like a shadow. She draws in a deliberate breath, setting her shoulders. “We’re fine.” 

But something has changed. 

Peter barely notices as the music strikes up. He and MJ maintain eye contact, but it does not remain their own. MJ, per usual, sheds her skin in favor of Elizabeth’s. Peter can see the differences: the way she stands as if she is seconds from taking off in flight, the lively attention of her gaze, the sense that even in dark leggings she moves as though fabric is flowing over her legs. 

Normally, such a sudden turnaround would leave Peter scrambling. He cannot transition into Darcy’s character so seamlessly; it takes thought, deliberation. At least, it usually does. 

Today, Darcy is inches away when Peter reaches for him in his mind. However, the transformation is not so complete as it normally is. As the first sweeping, circling steps of the dance take place, neither Darcy nor Peter alone performs them. The tension from before thickens, swirling in the air. Peter can’t breathe for fear of choking on it. 

Their eyes do not leave one another, no matter how much they twist and weave through the other dancers. 

“I love this dance.” She says it at the point when the tense silence crescendos, cracking it like a glow stick to release a surge of glowing energy. He can feel it, and he knows she does too as they rejoin just for a moment. Her gaze could burn holes in his skull. Peter doesn’t care. 

She is just as unable to look away as he is. 

“Indeed,” he remarks, the accent flowing like honey from his lips. His tone is measured, but the undercurrent of electricity still arcs through them. “Most invigorating.” 

They step around one another, forced to look elsewhere; their eyes meet on the other side of the turn, and then they part to circle the couple weaving through them.

“It is your turn to say something.” She declares it in passing, and as Peter steps through the space between the next pair of dancers, he tips his head towards her to show his attention. The motion is unnecessary. She knows full well that she has captured it, or her eyes would not be gleaming that way. 

“Pardon?” 

“It is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy.”

A few steps by one another’s’ side. Peter’s movements are as calculated and measured as an automaton’s. There is no discrepancy in the length of each step, and as his arm brushes hers he does not breathe. “I talked about the dance. Now you ought to comment on the size of the room or the number of couples.” 

“I’m perfectly happy to oblige.” They separate once more. The hairs on the ends of Peter’s arms stand up as his eyes meet hers. “What would you most like to hear?”

“That will do… For the present.” Before he can ask that she elaborate, they are together again in the center, circling. The intention of the dance, he is sure, was to mimic the fluttering rotations of some delicate sort of creature: butterflies, maybe, or birds. 

The dark pair of eyes across from him are the eyes of a wolf.

“Perhaps,” she continues, so soft that Peter has to hold his breath to hear, “I shall observe that private balls are more enjoyable than public ones.” 

Sparks. Before he can question whether or not to flinch away or lean into the warmth, the dance requires that they part. He had forgotten about the dance. “Do you talk as a rule while dancing?” 

“No.” She has him exactly where she wants him. A proficient hunter need not bare teeth or claws to control her prey. “I prefer to be taciturn and unsociable.”

Across from him, she turns. She tips her chin up as a few loose wisps of hair float against her hairline, and her gaze intensifies on his own. “Makes it all so much more enjoyable, don’t you think?” 

The momentum is increasing. “Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?” 

“Yes, we often walk to Meryton.” Step together, step away. He can practically hear the swish of skirts. “It is a great opportunity to meet new people.”

Together again. She closes in as they revolve around one another. 

“When you met us, we’d just made a new acquaintance.”

He straightens, and for the first time he too is a hunter, ready to spring into action. “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners that he’s sure of making friends.” Whatever prowls in her has awakened something in him. “Whether he’s capable of retaining them is less so.” 

To do this dance in one shot, the various other dancers must leave the scene when the camera faces away from them. They begin to drop, couple by couple… Or maybe they began a long time ago. He has not noted anything but her. 

“He has been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship.” Each step stalks the next. They are tied to one another, bound with momentum not unlike that which accompanies centrifugal force. “Is that irreversible?” 

“It is.” Apart, together. “Why do you ask such a question?” 

“I am attempting to make out your character.” 

A gloved hand presses against his as they revolve. 

“And what have you discovered?” 

“Very little.” If this is a dance of butterflies, her eyes pin his wings to corkboard. “I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.” 

There is nothing but her. Nothing but brown eyes as the notes tangle together, nothing but fabric flowing from her shoulders and ringlets dancing around her face. And inside these delicate adornments she is all tooth and talon. 

Peter stumbles. 

As the music fades, Peter’s head spins with it. The couples return at their sides as he drifts, like a daydream, to the spot where all of this began. His hammering heart and the rushing blood in his ears drown out all sounds of clapping that signal the end of the dance. She does not clap either as they stare at one another, ceilinged into a world of their own. 

The song in his head is not singing strings anymore. It is a sole catching on the pavement, a hand brushing the curve of her spine. It is gleaming candlelight and the sound of a guitar on the balcony, and firelight in coffee eyes. It is the fact that Peter has never remembered a misstep such as the one that sent his head reeling. 

“I hope to afford you more clarity in the future.” The words drift from his lips, and then he leans forward in a bow. She curtsies, but unlike those at either of their sides, they do not dare break eye contact. 

Her eyes are not Elizabeth’s anymore. They are MJ’s, and they are a gorse thicket of tangled emotions. 

The clapping is genuine now, from all of the dancers who are pleased with their performance. Wanda praises the technique and instructs them to resume their starting places. Peter is moving before he realizes it, turning suddenly to flee to his red and blue water bottle against the wall. He barely notices Brad brushing past him to praise MJ’s stunning performance, and he accepts Josh’s clap on the shoulder as he downs the water.

All he can think about is the way he still feels the rush of falling even though both his feet are planted firmly on the ground.


	5. Particularly Intimate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Just a heads up! I am going to try to keep these chapters coming as quickly as possible. However, I may be returning to work soon, and the Spideychelle Week Prompts just came up. When it comes down to it, I need to work on those as much as possible, especially if I start getting scheduled again. The update schedule may be a little more sporadic, but please know that I'm still here and working on this story for you! :)

“It’s open!”

MJ glances up as she hears the doorknob twist, brushing away the hair that has escaped her ponytail. After fumbling with it for a second too long, Peter Parker nudges the door open with his shoulder. 

His hair and collar are damp from the lazy drizzle pattering against the window, and MJ notes the way he melts into the warmth of her apartment. She’s glad she turned on the fireplace. 

Peter’s searching eyes locate her on the sofa. He shakes his head, sending a few raindrops slipping from his mess of hair, and raises a brown bag in his hands. MJ straightens. 

“Did you bring the sacrifice?” 

The base of the bag crinkles on the countertop of the island. MJ twists so she is looking back, glimpsing the takeout container Peter produces. 

He smiles at her approving nod. Peter approaches with her food, two sets of utensils, and his own takeout container. 

“One pad Thai,” he proclaims, offering her the container with a flourish. MJ seizes upon it as he sits down beside her, setting the utensils on the coffee table along with the book tucked under his arm. 

The lid pops off, and the spices of the dish waft through the air. MJ studies his container as she reaches for her chopsticks. “And one kaoh pad?”

He glances at her as she guesses, shrugging his jacket off. “Red curry today, actually.” 

“Rude.” The first bite of the food is glorious, and MJ groans as she closes her eyes shut to let the flavor wash over her. 

“Of course. I’ll refrain from trying new things in the future.” She opens her eyes to find him trying to hide his amusement at her reaction to the food. 

MJ arches a brow at the damp jacket on her sofa, and Peter stiffens. He lets out a sheepish breath as he takes the jacket, rising to hang it up by the door.

“Thank you.” MJ takes a sip of her water from the coffee table, where she has one prepared for him as well. “Kindly stick to the same dish out of anxiety like any self-respecting person.” 

“Will do,” Peter agrees, gauging her expression. MJ realizes he thinks he upset her, and she grins. He exhales in relief before moving to sit a comfortable distance away on the sofa to attack the Thai food. “How far did you get since last time?” 

“372,” MJ answers, glancing at the books on the coffee table. Though they’re the same edition, both copies look as different as they come. MJ’s is larger, for one; the pages she has read are distinct from those she has not, puckered from annotations in the margins. Her book is also more worn than Peter’s. His copy of Pride and Prejudice is meticulously preserved, and she spots a bookmark made of scrap paper marking his spot.

Peter goes silent in response to her answer, poking at his food. MJ’s peers over at him, smirk widening.

“Slow.” 

His wide eyes shoot up to hers. “I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t have to,” MJ informs him, returning her attention to the noodles twisted around her chopsticks. “You’re not great at hiding your emotions. When you’re not acting, anyway.” 

Peter goes quiet again, and when she looks up at him his face is grim. MJ thinks she’s crossed a line until he answers. “298.” 

She exhales in a low whistle. “There it is.” 

“Okay, you know what?” He tries to look frustrated, but MJ doesn’t miss Peter’s growing grin. “I’m keeping the food.” 

MJ raises an eyebrow, daring him to even try. Peter sighs, shaking his head, and sets aside his nearly-empty container. He always shocks her with his eating speed. 

Peter gives up the threat, turning to the rest of the living room. “Where’s that blanket I like?” 

MJ gestures to the other side of the sofa, where the dark blanket is hiding against the black upholstery. Peter shifts to reach for it, pulling the warm fleece and settling it over his lap. He offers the other side to MJ, who accepts it. They’re not too close, but they are sitting near enough to justify sharing a blanket. 

Once they settle, MJ reaches for his copy of the book. It’s become a tradition now. As the cast reads through the novel, Peter and MJ switch copies every so often to read each others’ annotations. Hers are permanent, made in colored pen and highlighter. Peter’s live in a little notepad where he can scribble away to his heart’s content. 

MJ accepts this notebook as he offers it to her. She flips open the novel, going back to the chapter she left off on the last time she read his copy. The notes have markings, so it’s easy to find once she deciphers his messy scrawl. 

She hears the rustling of pages as Peter does the same. In his copy of the novel, MJ begins to spot a few streaks of color. Pausing, she flips through a few pages, and a familiar warmth spreads in her chest. “Hey.” 

He looks up from her copy, brown eyes finding hers. MJ gestures to the pages, grinning dryly. “New highlighters?” 

MJ can tell he is embarrassed. Peter shrugs with a small smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, you said they were good,” he points out. “They are. May keeps stealing them from me while she’s working from home.” 

MJ hums in approval, glancing back down to the book. “She’s got good taste.”

Silence resumes as MJ finds the right page, but it’s not their normal one. Usually, it’s easy to settle into a comfortable quiet; it’s why MJ invited him over again after they first grabbed food. This time, she can almost hear him thinking-- and it’s loud. 

MJ struggles through a few paragraphs before she looks at him. Peter has a thoughtful look in his eyes, which fixate on the coffee table. He glances up to meet her expectant gaze.

He pauses, then perseveres. “You know, you should meet her sometime.” 

“Hmm?” It takes MJ a moment to realize he means his aunt. She furrows her brow to process the idea. 

“Well,” Peter plunges forward, nodding, “if we’re going to be keeping this just between us, Liz, and Happy, I know May will want to meet you.” 

“Right.” 

The idea causes MJ’s pulse to quicken. She’s not great with new people. Other actors are one thing; that relationship is professional. MJ can’t remember the last time she met someone just to meet them. 

Peter pauses, and she doesn’t fill the silence. He hesitates. MJ puts her thoughts on pause to watch him try to put on a poker face. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that, I mean.”

The way his voice dips sends a little jolt of panic through her. “No, no,” she insists. It’s Peter’s turn to look confused until MJ recovers with a teasing expression. 

“I am always interested in expanding my circle of accomplished women.” 

Peter groans at her (rather impressive) imitation of his accent, shaking his head. “Not that again.” 

“I can’t wait to film that scene.” 

She smirks, letting the book fall closed in her lap. MJ was looking forward to the reading time, but she’s already read it. The conversation isn’t an unpleasant development, anyway. 

He glances down at his own book, pausing. “Yeah, me neither.” Peter’s muted tone causes MJ to raise an eyebrow.

“Convince me, why don’t you.” 

“No,” he amends, realizing how his tone came across, “no, I am!” He glances up at MJ, meeting her unimpressed gaze with an anxious stare of his own. 

He clears his throat. “I am.” He’s trying to persuade himself. 

MJ follows his eyes to the packed suitcase positioned by the door. She waits for him to emerge from his thoughts at his leisure. When he does, he finds her waiting. 

MJ lets the quiet sit for a minute before she speaks. “You’re nervous.” 

His eyes widen a fraction of an inch. Peter opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. Finally, he exhales. His shoulders deflate as he leans into the sofa, turning towards MJ to rest his cheek against it. 

“Yeah,” he admits, letting a sheepish chuckle escape after the words. 

MJ takes a moment to study him. She reads the tension scribbled across his shoulders and studies the way his eyes dart to his lap, annotated with a quiet sort of embarrassment. He doesn’t shrink away. MJ speaks after she has read her fill.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“I mean…” He doesn’t look up, but his fingers begin to trace circles into the fleece on his knee. MJ has grown to recognize these repetitive motions as signs that Peter is thinking. “I don’t know if there’s much to talk about, really.” 

MJ doesn’t press him. He’s not asking for her commentary. He needs to let his thoughts flow unmeasured so he can follow where they lead, and she is happy to give him an audience. 

She turns so her knees angle towards him, mirroring his posture intentionally. Peter rolls his eyes, but she notes the way his shoulders relax a bit. 

“It’s just… It’s not for any of the good reasons,” he sighs, returning his eyes to hers.” 

“Ah, yes.” MJ nods wisely. “Like the fact I’m going to outshine you in every frame.” 

The smile grows into a real one. It is small but genuine. “Well, that’s kind of the goal, isn’t it?” 

MJ lets the moment of humor run its course. She pulls the blanket a bit closer as the rain falls with increased volume. “I’m nervous, too.”

Peter watches her. Surprise flickers through his eyes, but it seems to have less to do with her words than with the fact she chose to share them. It is his turn to watch, waiting for her to continue. 

For the first time, MJ is uncomfortable with Peter Parker. It isn’t because she is nervous. It is because of how he looks at her in the quiet, patient. 

Like he sees her, and he’s willing to wait. 

MJ grabs for her water as an excuse to look away. She does not look to observe his reaction, but as she is settling back into a comfortable position, he does the same. He has time to raise the rim to his lips before she finds the right words. 

“I always am. But this film is going to change things.” Her finger hovers against the outside of the tumbler. “There will be a lot of hatred and bigotry directed towards it. But it helps when I think about the fact that…” 

“Yeah?” Peter watches, anticipating the next words with earnest eyes reflecting the fireplace. 

“I dunno.” MJ pauses and inhales. The answer comes accompanied by the release of the breath. “The fact that we’re doing it with this cast. I'm comfortable with them, which isn’t always the case. I know like we can take it.” 

A little smile is tugging at the edge of Peter’s lips, and something in his eyes is shining alongside the firelight. A childish pleasure fills MJ as she realizes talking to her has helped. This fast confidence prompts one last sentence. 

“Whatever happens, we’re going to do it together.” 

It’s Peter’s turn to let out a breath. A bit more of the tension disappears as he takes another sip of water.“I thought you said you didn’t like cheesy.” 

“I thought you said you were going to repossess my food.” 

Peter almost spits out his water. MJ shoots him a smirk, setting her glass down while he recovers. The amusement lingering in her eyes fades as MJ realizes he intends on continuing the serious side of their conversation. 

“And I get that,” he replies with a nod. “It shouldn’t have to, but it makes sense. This film is much bigger than us.” 

MJ nods as well. But he is not done. She can see him hovering on the edge of a transition, unsure whether he should make the jump. When he does, it is with the same care that accompanies all Peter Parker’s actions.

“But that’s not why I’m nervous.” 

“Draw it out, why don’t you.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Maybe I should ask for a drumroll.” 

Peter glances her way, expecting her to continue the banter. Instead, Michelle tips her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Is it Stark?” 

The glass nearly slips between his fingers; at this point, MJ is afraid for her sofa. He sets it down on the coffee table with an uncomfortable ‘thud.’ 

When Peter looks at her, shock is written in the margins of every line on his face. “What?” 

Shit. Too fast. MJ has had enough awkward encounters to know what happens when her mind has a direct channel to her tongue. It’s too easy to forget with him. 

“Sorry. “ Michelle catches her breath, looking away. “Sorry, my bad.” 

“No… I, uh.” He trails off, voice wobbling over the words. “No. That’s right.” 

MJ exhales, gathering herself as she stares into the fire. She expects him to have clammed up, but when she looks back at him Peter seems more curious than shaken. 

A sheepish expression crosses his face as he runs a hand through his hair, attempting to laugh at himself. “Is it that obvious?” 

MJ pauses before responding. She’s so used to being called out on these blunders; when she was younger, she committed them often. But Peter doesn’t seem bothered. Surprised, but… Well, he’s one of the few people she knows who truly doesn’t mind her accidental bluntness. The thought sends her mind racing. 

“Nah,” she answers. A teasing note enters her voice, though it is a dry one. “It’s not like anyone is watching you.” 

He shakes his head, laughing. Michelle doesn’t miss the breathless note to it, no doubt from her lapse of tact. But his eyes mirror her mirth when they meet his. 

MJ grins, holding the gaze for a moment before elaborating. “But I guess it kind of makes sense, especially with our whole on-camera relationship.” 

“Yeah…” Peter winces, looking to the fire again. “Yeah, it does.” 

“I can hate him if you need me to,” MJ offers, wanting the tension creeping over him to go away. “That’s what you do for your friends, right?” 

“No, no!” It’s MJ’s turn to laugh at the vehemence of his protest. He perks up at the noise, though she can tell he’s trying to hide it. “I wouldn’t wish your hate on anyone.” 

MJ offers a non-committal hum, and Peter relaxes into the sofa again. “But no, no. He’s great, he’s… I owe everything to him.” 

MJ leans forward. “You’re a good actor, Peter.” She doesn’t disagree with him outright, but her tone is pointed. 

“Yeah,” Peter admits. MJ doesn’t like the note of quiet surrender in it. There isn’t pride in his tone, even though he’s one of the most talented performers she has worked with. “But I wouldn’t be if he hadn’t intervened.” 

Oh. She catches her breath.

She has unlocked a character backstory. MJ usually doesn’t reach this point in friendships (or video games; not her thing). She has with Liz, but Liz is an open book. This feels… Different, and MJ isn’t sure what to say.

It doesn’t take much searching to come up with words that feel right. “You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to.” 

Peter inhales, and MJ doesn’t hear him release the breath as his gaze cements on hers. His eyes are deep by nature, but glowing with fire and accompanied by rain, she thinks they could drown someone. 

If her tone was quiet, he is a hair away from a whisper. “Maybe that’s why I want you to know.” 

Peter watches her, and MJ swallows. Here it is again: discomfort. Normally, MJ hates feeling out of control. But this reminds her of the surrender of acting, of giving over to a new character. 

It is creating a space of acceptance. It might be out of her comfort zone, but it is what he needs… And in some respects, she needs it to. Maybe friendships don’t need to be built on solid ground; after all, jagged stone wears down to a firm foundation with enough care. This is uncharted territory, but if Peter is willing to build a friendship with her, then who is she to say no?

MJ nods, and the visible sign of affirmation sparks relief in Peter’s eyes. She settles deeper into the sofa, angling her body towards him to show she is listening.

He waits for her to settle, then begins. “He was the one who helped me get my scholarship to NYU. His word goes a long way.” Peter reclines, smiling distantly. “He’s… He’s a rockstar.” 

MJ nods, observing him with a steady gaze. “He obviously saw something in you.” 

“Well, maybe,” Peter concedes. “But a lot of people have ‘something.’” It’s one of the biggest truths in the industry, so MJ has to give him that one. “I was in the right place at the right time. It was luck.”

Peter glances back at MJ, and there is caution in his gaze now. “You know how, uh, how I told you guys I used to trespass when I was younger?” 

She glances out at the patio, where the furniture is covered to repel the rain. “At the party, yeah.” 

His brain is loud again. MJ can see him following different trails of thought to figure out where he should begin. When he settles, it is for a simple truth. “I grew up in Queens.” 

MJ nods again. “Same.” 

“So you know what it’s like when you go to the wrong parts.” 

It’s MJ’s turn to glance away. Yes… Yes, she does. After a pause, she nods, bringing her eyes back to him. She suspects she knows where he is going.

“My parents died in a mugging when I was little.” Peter’s tone is controlled, but weariness begins to shade in the lines of his face. MJ wonders if there is any way to erase tragedy from one’s countenance. “They had maybe forty dollars on them.” 

“I went to live with my Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but then he got sick, which is expensive.” Peter settles into a rhythm. Though his tone is careful, it is not attention-seeking or dramatized. He isn’t storytelling; he’s compiling facts, giving her little truths to use as scaffolding as she constructs herself a new understanding of Peter Parker. 

“He did his best, but when he was gone, May... She had me, a kid she never planned on supporting, and it was just us. I kind of went through a rebellious phase.” 

One corner of her mouth twists up in a lopsided smile. “When I was seventeen, I vandalized every newspaper in the news rack on my block for a month straight.”

A little bit of the tiredness fades as Peter offers her a nod of admiration for the feat. “I snuck out every night after I turned fourteen.” 

MJ pauses in the silence. She can tell he’s waiting to see how she’ll react. “Mine’s cooler.”

His soft laugh is a grateful one. MJ is pleased to have produced it, but she doesn’t attempt any more humor. It is a useful tool to lighten the mood, but she doesn’t want to give him the impression that she’s scared of a little darkness. 

“I didn’t do drugs.” Peter glances at his hands, fiddling with his fingers in his lap.“I mostly snuck into empty lots and buildings. I had a skateboard, but that was more of an excuse. I liked to climb things I wasn’t supposed to and be places that weren’t meant for me, you know?”

MJ knows. She’s familiar with the urge: be somewhere, but not home. Do something, but not what they expect. Anything that feels like living. 

A poignant tension hovers in the air. He is getting to the heart of the issue, and she won’t rush him. When he finds the words, he speaks them with determination. “I liked almost getting caught, because I felt like I would deserve it when it happened.” 

“Until I snuck into a building that was being used to film one of Mr. Stark’s movies.” 

MJ’s eyes widen, and it takes effort not to gasp. “You didn’t.”

“It was badly marked, okay?” Peter raises his hands, but he’s grinning. “And it was dark.”

MJ shakes her head in mock disapproval, though the teasing edge lessens as she moves on.“So Stark saw you.” 

“On my way getting thrown out, yeah.” Peter nods, and fondness creeps into his tone as he explains his mentor’s actions. “He kept me around, gave me an internship on set. I had a walk-on role in one of his films when an extra didn’t show, and then that was it.” 

MJ nods. “He decided he wanted to induct you into the secret celebrity sex cult.” 

Peter lets out a huff of amusement, nodding. His eyes dance with firelight and amusement as he looks at her. “Totally,” he agrees as he relaxes once more. They linger in the comfort of the moment, but MJ watches as Peter’s shoulders dip under an imaginary weight. 

“I dunno. I just… Even out of school, he amped up my career, you know?” MJ nods, watching with an intensity he doesn’t try to escape. “And even if I didn’t star in something with him, it was in a genre or character archetype people knew me from. The ones he gave me. Now they’ll be seeing me.” 

He exhales, and as MJ remains impassive as he pulls a hand through his damp locks. 

“This is my first time doing something that stands alone,” he breathes, his eyes earnest as they lock with hers. “And I don’t know if I’m ready.” 

MJ draws in a breath, maintaining his stare. His brows twitch inward, creating a pleading note in his stare.

“You are.” 

“Yeah?” The tension in his shoulders relaxes a bit. Peter still hangs on her words. “How do you know?” 

She leans forward, not bothering to soften her gaze. MJ has never been sugary sweet, and as she props her elbow on her knee and her chin on the palm of her hand, now is no exception.

“Because they aren’t going to like it.” 

Peter blinks, confused. “What?” 

“The people you’re worried about,” she clarifies. “They’re not going to like it.” 

Peter is affronted; she can tell. Before he can venture too far into the emotion, MJ extrapolates. “Someone is always going to be able to find something wrong with you, with your performance.”

As he begins to understand, Peter offers a careful nod.

“That doesn’t change.” She sits up straight, keeping their eyes locked so he can see she is speaking from experience. “What does change is how you respond to it and whether you’re ready to handle it.” 

Doubt twitches across his face like a waterbug over a loch. MJ won’t let it linger there long. She sets her jaw before she offers the median between advice and an order. 

“You wouldn’t have come out for this if you didn’t believe you could do it.” 

“Yeah,” Peter sighs. She hasn’t fixed everything; there is still a tired gleam in his eyes. But MJ sees gratitude as well. 

He offers a weary smile, shrugging as he pulls his gaze from hers. “I guess I just thought the uncertainty would go away.” 

MJ exhales in sympathetic amusement. “It doesn’t,” she admits, drawing her knees to her chest and following his gaze to the fire. “But you learn to ignore it.” 

Peter sighs, resting his head against the sofa. MJ studies the movement, before replicating it, shifting under the blanket. He makes a face and pulls more of the fleece in his direction, and she smirks. For a moment, they lazily maintain eye contact as the fire crackles and the windows tap a rhythm. 

When the silence is broken, it is by the less lazy of the two. “How do you just… Know what to say?” Peter’s question is genuine and curious, and it causes her cheeks to warm. He’s just so… Peter. The odd goodness that accompanies him always catches her off her guard. 

MJ takes a moment to calm her racing thoughts and come up with an answer. “I don’t,” she decides. She lets her eyes flutter shut, drinking in the warmth of the room and the calm atmosphere. “But usually, the truth helps.” 

He hums in amusement. “You make it sound easy.” 

“It’s not,” she replies. “But it’s worth it.” 

The silence between them stretches on. When she opens her eyes, Peter is already looking at her. 

MJ straightens to an awkward position between sitting up and reclining against the sofa. He blinks, glancing down to straighten the blanket before meeting her eyes again. MJ pauses, wary. 

“What?” she prods. 

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he answers. Her stare becomes pointed, and he surrenders. “It’s just that you’re like…” His gaze wanders the room as he searches for the words. “A superhero.” 

Her heart revs like a Harley Davidson. It was not what she was expecting him to say, and she finds herself repeating it. “A superhero.” 

He shrugs, and she shakes her head, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s such a hotshot in the business.” 

“Eh.” Peter looks away, bashful. He changes the subject. “I don’t know how you handle it all so well.” 

MJ almost winces at the praise. It is her turn to look away, tugging her legs closer to her chest. Now she remembers why she hates backstory: often, she becomes tempted to match the vulnerability. Even in the safety of her living room, MJ can feel her pulse quickening and her interlocked fingers becoming clammy. 

Isn’t that all the more reason to forge ahead? 

Before she can think about it, MJ expels the words. “I hate the press.”

“What?” MJ risks a glance at him. There is genuine surprise in Peter Parker’s eyes, and he opens his mouth as if to speak. 

MJ’s whole body clenches with the sudden, irresistible urge to defend herself. “Well, not the institution as a whole,” she amends. Her words are a quick, even stream of syllables. “But the photographers and the paps, and the tabloids. I hate them.” 

Peter watches. He does not press her, but he also leaves space. It is space for her to continue, to unburden herself… Space to control the way he forms his impression of her. 

The thought makes her feel emotional, so MJ ignores it in favor of explaining. “I’ve never gotten used to them.” She lowers her legs, letting them stretch out over the edge of the sofa. 

“The flashing and the shouting, and sometimes even the way they reach for you is just too…” 

“Much.” Peter nods in understanding. She inclines her head in affirmation, grateful he didn’t make her find the word. 

MJ’s mind flashes to the way the celebrity informant moved to her side with such speed, penetrating MJ's invisible barrier. There was no way for the woman to have known, but the feeling of violation… Michelle knows it well. 

She hates feeling cornered like an animal. 

Peter pauses, choosing how to proceed. “Mr. Stark doesn’t get why they bother me.” 

An inappropriate amusement flickers through her. Of course he is empathizing… Of course he is trying to make her feel understood. He’s so good at this whole ‘supportive’ thing, in a lot of the ways she isn’t. 

She can’t bring herself to mind it much. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, letting out a breath. MJ tucks a few tufts of escaped ponytail behind her ear. “You’re good at them, though. It’s too overstimulating.” She occupies herself with fiddling with the drawstring of her hoodie. 

“I can present a front,” she concedes, “but they just make me feel heavy.” 

MJ doesn’t have to be watching Peter to know those brown eyes are warm and gentle. “Heavy?” 

“They’re all watching, all the time.” MJ continues to harass the tightly-braided thread as she pieces together the sentence. “I can feel them scanning every inch of me for something wrong, and I know if I find it it’s going to be all over the internet in the morning.” 

His sigh echoes in the quiet peace of the apartment. “It’s not a fair standard. I’m sorry you have to put up with it.” 

“Yeah.” 

She hesitates, abandoning her mindless task. When MJ looks at him, she doesn’t see him. Her mind is too busy searching for the reason the explanation feels incomplete.” 

“It’s not even that, honestly. It’s not the reports that bother me.” Her eyes focus on him as the right words hit her. She feels the strange urge to shrink away from the truth, but she owes it to him to say it anyway. “It’s the way I can’t breathe.” MJ doesn’t want to look at him. 

She doesn’t want to see pity in his eyes. 

Rather than brave a glance, she continues. “I just feel… Powerless.” MJ lets out a laugh, though there is little mirth in it. “And I can’t block out the noise of my own thoughts, which makes everything louder. I freeze.” 

Quiet. MJ wants to look up at him, but she’s not ready. “So, there. I’m not perfect.” 

The asshole says nothing. MJ’s chest sinks as she outlines sympathy and softness in his gaze, both things she knows she can’t handle at the moment. Frustration builds in her chest. Why should he make her feel so… Uncertain? The irritation is enough motivation for MJ to lift her head. 

It isn’t fair, admitting to it is hard enough anyway-

His gaze locks on her. 

MJ blinks, narrowing her eyes. She does not retreat; her stare pierces his like push-pins, searching for any signs of pity or sympathy. 

Michelle doesn’t find anything but quiet awe. She catches her breath. 

For a moment, she fumbles, realizing she needs to speak. “What?” she blurts. 

Peter blinks, and in an instant he is normal. Now, a little grin is playing with his lips. Michelle has the strangest feeling he is laughing at her, even though he is the one who should be uncomfortable.

“Shut up,” MJ huffs, leaning her head against the sofa. 

He knows she doesn’t mean it, the smug bastard. Well, not smug… But still, he shouldn’t be wearing that smile.

“Thanks,” he hums after a moment’s pause. “I feel better about tomorrow.” 

It is MJ’s turn to glance at her suitcase and the carry-on and backpack on top of it. She knows everything she needs is inside. She is prepared; Liz has explained the plan a dozen times. Airport, where the paps will know the cast is arriving. Flight to England, where they will settle into their temporary lodgings. Cast-bonding on-set, complete with a month and a half of exploring as the production moves in. Then the real work begins. 

Despite her knowledge of the plan, MJ has felt nervous all week. They’ve spent a few months prepping, sure. But this is where the vision becomes a reality. This is where the pressure comes in, not to mention the development of their “relationship.” She’s gotten nauseous just thinking about it.

Somehow all that falls behind. When MJ says “Me, too,” she means it. 

Peter’s face lights up. “Really?” She can’t help but mirror his childish grin, though. It’s not her fault; it’s so contagious it’s practically a bioweapon.

“Yeah, whatever,” she hums, looking away. 

Peter pauses. “It’s gonna move fast.” 

They’re not talking about filming. MJ takes a controlled breath, exhaling before she nods. “It has to.” This is where they’re going to be surrounded by cameras, and this is where the public starts to pay attention. 

Peter hums to himself. MJ doesn’t have to look to know he is tapping the blanket on his knee. She can feel the vibrations flapping the loose fleece between them. 

“Are we supposed to feel ready?” she muses, watching the ‘flames’ dance across the loft. 

Peter contemplates the question. “I don’t think there’s a handbook for fake-dating someone.” 

“There should be,” she informs no one in particular. Peter quiets, and MJ is happy to give him time to think.

“The offer still stands, you know.” 

She glances at him, tipping her head to the side. “Hmm?” 

He steels himself, setting his jaw. “If you’re not okay with this, we don’t have to.” MJ realizes he is repeating the sentiment he first vocalized in the car. “We can just film a movie. Let that be enough.” 

MJ feels goosebumps rise on her arms as his determined gaze meets hers and she understands. He could use this; she knows that. But he is willing to give up the increased publicity and individuality their “relationship” would provide so she doesn’t feel trapped. 

Peter is giving her an escape hatch.

The realization confirms what MJ already knew about them. “I’m good.” 

She straightens to face him. Her determination mirrors his now because she knows she is making the right choice. “You need some press that’ll set you apart if you want to stand alone. I’m happy to provide it.”

He doesn’t say anything. For once, Peter’s expression doesn’t change to reveal what he is thinking, though his jaw does tighten (likely from the effort). 

MJ doesn’t like the tense quiet. “Especially since I’ll get a ton of coverage that could boost my career. But that’s the afterthought.” 

He exhales in amusement, nodding. “Right.” Peter purses his lips. 

He doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, MJ gestures to the books on the coffee table. “We kind of suck at reading together.” 

Peter looks away at the books, laughing quietly. For some reason, it sounds a bit tired. “Maybe the plane ride will help.” 

She nods, examining him. Is he avoiding her gaze? Her eyes narrow, but then MJ realizes he is stifling a nod. Of course. He’s tired. It’s late, and he probably already spent most of his day off with his aunt. MJ is just overanalyzing. 

Peter vocalizes his thoughts, moving to collect his empty container of food. “I should get going,” he sighs. “Time difference.”

“Yeah, of course.” MJ collects her trash, balancing it at her side and scooping up their two glasses. She can hear the rustling of cloth as Peter slips on his jacket. She lets the empty container drop into the trash on her way to the sink, where she sets the glasses. 

MJ turns to find Peter hovering by the door. He offers her a little grin and a goofy wave. “Um… ‘Night.” 

She rests her back against the counter, smirking. “See you in the morning,” she replies sweetly.

Peter groans at the implication that they’ll be up early, but his eyes are warm. “Bye.” 

The door opens, and his footsteps begin to fade down the hall as it shuts…. Did he bring some of the warmth with him? 

It’s a stupid thought, MJ decides as she begins to wash the glasses. But the goosebumps on her arms won’t fade, not even when she lays down in her bed for the last time in the months to come. 

“And you have everything you need?” 

MJ hums into the phone as an affirmation, wondering how Liz can sound so energetic at 6 AM. 

“I made my list, checked it twice,” she confirms, holding the phone a few inches away in preparation for whatever overenthusiastic reply Liz has ready for her. 

“Great!” Her security for the day glances back from the front seat. MJ shrugs, and he turns his attention away from Liz’s chirpy voice and back to the road. 

“Yeah,” MJ continues. “In fact, I’m even gonna find out-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Liz warns.

“Cool.” MJ eyes the turn to the airport. They’re coming upon it after a half-hour of typical New York driving. At least her driver swears creatively. 

There is a pregnant pause, and MJ knows the question before she even asks. “And are you… Y’know, feeling good about everything?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” MJ replies. “Everyone keeps asking me.”

“Ooh,” Liz coos, interested. “Who’s everyone?” 

“I mean, Peter asked me yesterday.” MJ lets her gaze wander as they turn right. For some reason, every second Liz takes to reply seems like an eternity. 

“I thought you didn’t work yesterday.”

“I didn’t,” MJ confirms. “He just came over, we’re reading through the novel together.” 

Now Liz’s pause is intentional. When she deigns to speak, she offers a knowing, “Hmm.” 

“Tone, Liz.” 

“I didn’t use a tone.” 

“Whatever.” 

As they pull up to the curb beside the airport, MJ collects herself. She doesn’t see anyone yet, which is good. For the most part, the traffic is the same chaotic mess MJ loves about the city. 

“Hey, I gotta go,” she informs Liz. “We’re here.” 

“Alright! Bye, hon,” Liz responds. “Love you.” 

MJ doesn’t resist the pleasure of a quiet smile. “You too.” 

As the car pulls up to the curb, MJ sets her shoulders. She can see one or two of them, now. There is a man leaning against the wall by the doors with a camera over his shoulder. Another woman is scanning the arriving cars a bit too intently to be looking for a friend or family member.

It’ll be over soon. Still, MJ drinks in the last moments of silence from inside the car before she shrugs on her backpack and opens the door. 

MJ escapes attention for long enough to remove her carry-on from the trunk. By the time it is slung over her escort’s shoulder, she knows they have found her. 

“There she is, there she is.” 

MJ’s heart races, and her fist clenches around the handle of her suitcase as she lowers it to the concrete. She extends the handle as quickly as she can, but now they are circling like ravens, hovering far enough away to create room for her to walk. She offers a little smile and wave, but it encourages them. 

Her heart pounds faster. 

“Michelle!”

“Michelle? Look this way!” 

She makes it through the doors, producing her identification for PreCheck. They follow, even though MJ’s security keeps them back as best as he can. 

“Right over here, darlin’! I need you to tip your head for me.” 

The TSA agent accepts MJ’s ID, and then she is through. MJ’s hand clutches her suitcase so hard that her knuckles are white, and she doesn’t loosen her grip. Past security, the airport is quieter. At least now the people who are staring are too busy to approach as she searches for the right gate.

“Hey!” 

The call of greeting causes MJ to tense, expecting another camera. The brown eyes that capture her from across the hall are ones she knows, and her shoulders relax. 

MJ raises her hand in greeting as she crosses to him. Peter is leaning against the wall of the gate. If she glances past him, she can see Betty nodding off on a bench and Flash live-streaming in the corner. If she listens hard enough, she can make out a few words.

“... Early morning… Going to be on-set… Prep… I’ve got my game face on.” 

MJ rolls her eyes. A look to the left reveals Brad Davis, who of course looks bright and cheerful as ever before the sun is even up. He offers a wave of greeting, which she returns with what she hopes passes for a smile. 

“Hi,” MJ replies, returning her attention to Peter. He is dressed in joggers and a hoodie to mirror her loose sweats. 

Peter smiles, and as his eyes crinkle, MJ can see a little puffiness where he has not been able to chase the sleep away. The smile falters as he glances down at her clenched fist. “You good?”

Her fingers go limp. “Um, yeah.” Michelle nods, but her gaze drifts behind Peter to make sure a woman coming their way is carrying a purse and not a camera.

When she looks back, Peter’s eyes are knowing. 

“Hey, can we get moving?” Flash calls? Betty starts, nearly smacking her head against the wall. “My followers want to see the gate.” 

Peter rolls his eyes. Even with the pounding of her heart, MJ exhales in amusement. Peter waves them on without the pair of them. Betty stumbles to her feet, almost walking into Flash as he brushes past her. Brad spares a glance back at the pair of them before he follows behind the others. 

Peter’s exasperated expression melts into a small frown. “They got you too.” 

“I’m fine.” MJ watches as the others fade from view, attempting nonchalance. When she looks back at him, Peter nods after a moment’s hesitation. 

“Are you ready for the walk to the gate?” Peter straightens his bag over his shoulder, adjusting his weight to support it. 

MJ nods, glancing back at her security. “Just about, yeah.” She squares her shoulders, inhaling. There are going to be more; they both know it. Happy wanted these pictures, and it’ll help with the story. MJ just needs to focus and she’ll be alright. 

“I was wondering, uh, if you wanted…” Peter jerks MJ out of her thoughts. She blinks several times, confused about why he is holding out one of his earbuds. 

“Oh.” MJ nods in understanding, taking one side. “For the picture?” 

He’s right. It’ll make for a good photo-op, and it’ll get the press where they need to be on the “relationship timeline.” 

“I guess.” To MJ’s surprise, Peter hesitates. She pauses, letting the earbud hover in the air beside her head before he continues.” 

Peter scratches his neck, glancing away. MJ could swear his cheeks redden. “I was more thinking it could help, uh, ‘block out the thoughts.’” 

The warmth that bursts to life in her chest tangles with relief.

The combination of emotions is too much for MJ to address at the moment. Instead, she lets a little smile of thanks cross her lips. Peter perks up. 

“So,” she hums, popping in the earbud, “what’re we listening to?” 

Immediately, iconic electric guitar rings in her ears. Peter’s eyes widen, and MJ smirks as she realizes he wasn’t expecting her to agree right away. 

“Oh, uh, I was going to change-” Peter fumbles with his phone, laughing uncomfortably. MJ watches him for a moment before intervening. 

“Hell no, Parker,” she informs him. “Start this over.” 

He laughs again, but this time it is in relief. “Cherry Bomb” begins again, and the loud classic drowns out Michelle’s thoughts and much of the tension. At first, MJ doesn’t even notice the paparazzi as they walk to the gate. 

Still, the shouts manage to waft in even through the music.

“Peter, Michelle, right here!” 

“This way!” 

“Michelle, can you-” 

MJ stiffens as the volume shoots way up in her ear. Now, even with one earbud, there is no way for her to focus on anything but the roaring of Cherie Currie and Joan Jetts in her ears. 

MJ fixes her wide-eyed stare on Peter, whose thumb is scrolling up the volume. 

_ “Whoops,” _ he mouths. He slides his phone back in his joggers as they continue, ignoring the shouts from either side of them. MJ can’t hear her own incredulous laugh.


End file.
